


Tapout

by nymja



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fighting AU, Getting Back Together, MMA AU, Modern AU, Non-Sexual Assault, Organized Crime, Semi-Open Ending, Violence, background rose/finn - Freeform, boxing au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-03-23 06:30:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13781748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymja/pseuds/nymja
Summary: With The Resistance gym about to close, Rey decides to put her boxing skills to use making cash in underground fights.Little does she know that this means working with Kylo Ren-- former fighter turned promoter, member of the criminal First Order, and worse, her ex-boyfriend.





	1. prologue: call the d j

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aionimica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aionimica/gifts).



> for the wonderful V! Sorry it's a WIP post / this is more of a set-up chapter, but I hope you like it anyway <3 I'll finish it up this week!

“You’re still here?”

Rey squints when the overhead lights illuminate, fingers pausing from their work in order to shield her eyes. 

“Oy,” she protests half-heartedly at the intrusion.

Poe only sends her a Look, pulling his gym towel from where it rests around his neck. His tank top is soaked with sweat, as is his hair, and there’s a very dark circle blooming around his left eye. 

“You know,” he starts, jutting his chin at the busted kickshield on her lap. The one Rey is attempting to sew back together. “You don’t have to do that, right?”

She pulls the fishing line through it, tugging it up with jerky movements when the thick leather resists. The stitching is haphazard and messy, but it’ll do. At least until the first of the month, when they collect member dues for Resistance Fitness-- a mixed fighting gym that has been Rey’s home for the better part of three years. 

“I know. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to.”

Sighing, Poe kicks out his duffle bag from under the wooden bench Rey’s currently occupying. He sits, absently unrolling the orange handwraps around his palms and inbetween his knuckles. He nudges the outside of her leg with his own. 

“Go home, Jakku.” Something in his expression changes, making him look mischievous. “Unless you want some ring time?”

Rey looks up to him. Tilts her head to the side. Then unceremoniously lets the kickshield drop to the floor.

“Ring time will do.”

Poe smirks, and stops unwrapping his hands.

\--

She’s been a fighter for as long as she can remember, ever since a low-rent gangster named Unkar Plutt  found her wandering alone at a train station. He took her under his wing, making Rey one of his errand kids. She remembers being only six or seven and going door to door collecting gambling debts. Once she got taller, and once the gangsters felt more at peace getting violent with a not-quite-child anymore, she started bringing a knife. Learning to duck, to punch. Finn, another one of Unkar’s, taught her the basics: how to make a fist. How to cut the face to prevent swelling. How to set a bone. 

When she was sixteen, the two of them made a run for it. They left Niima, took the first bus to Takodana, and it was there they both started odds and ends jobs. Rey would fix small machines like mowers or leaf blowers or refrigerators, and Finn would do...something he didn’t like to talk about. But they made it work, the two of them. They got an efficiency apartment, changed their names. Went somewhat legitimate. 

After a while, Finn found the Resistance gym. It was a ramshackle place, refurbished from an old warehouse. All the bags, mats, and equipment were clearly secondhand or ancient, most of them no longer meeting safety regulation for amateur or professional fights. The owner, Leia Organa, was something of a silent partner to her brother Luke, the head coach and the most curmudgeonly man Rey’d ever met. 

They received introductions from Poe, who Finn had allegedly saved in a backalley fight. Muggers. Poe had been impressed with Finn’s fighting ability, and argued for the gym to sign them up as amateur fighters on their competitive team. After the orphans from Niima had done a few classes and sparring sessions, Luke was convinced. 

Finn was now one of their top grapplers, and Rey one of the best kickboxers. They helped coach and do upkeep pro-bono. They made modest money from octagon fights or boxing matches, but they also returned a lot of it back to the Resistance--to the ragtag family who had taken them under their wing. 

Rey had met Ben there.

  


And then Ben had left.

\--

The next morning, Rey rolls out of bed with stiff movements. Her ribs ache-- a consequence of not slipping fast enough from one of Poe’s hooks the night before. Her bare feet are cold against the hardwood floor of the apartment, and when she yawns, her athletic tank rides up her stomach.

The whir of a food processor makes her blink herself awake. Sure enough, Finn stands behind their Ninja, something green and seedy spinning around. When he sees her, he smiles, already in his workout clothes.

“Shake?”

Rey nods in the affirmative, plopping herself down on a stool. She winces at it. “And a bag of ice, please.”

Finn sends her a glance, before he grabs some frozen peas from the freezer and tosses them at her. “Hurt?”

In their line of work, one was always  _ hurt.  _ But there was the regular bruises and cuts and sore muscles and then there were things like broken ribs. The injury on her side was definitely one of the former.

“Poe got a shot in last night. Nothing major.”

“He’s reckless,” Finn says without any malice. The food processor stops, and he pours something goopy into a thermos, twisting on the cap and handing it to her. “I’m going on a run, see you at the noon class?”

She nods, saluting him with the thermos as Finn downs his own shake like a shot and makes for the door. It closes behind him, and Rey sighs, turning to look out their window as she drinks something that smells way too much like spinach and hisses when the peas touch her midsection.

\--

“I’m closing the gym.”

By her side, Finn lets out a loud “What?” and Poe jerks forward in his seat. Rey can only stare at Luke Skywalker with what feels like betrayal. 

“Why?” She demands.

The head coach, dressed in a grey pair of sweats and a grey hoodie, crosses his arms over his chest. “Do any of you have sixty thousand dollars?”

Her face scrunches into a frown. “Of course not-”

“Then we’re closed.” His stare drifts from face to face, looking at all of the coaches who have gathered in the office for the staff meeting. “Most of you have given us years of your life. We thank you for that. But,” and here, he softens. “You have to know when it’s time to move on. This is our time.”

“With all respect, sir, this is bullshit,” Poe says, standing up. “Why do you need sixty grand?”

Luke’s haggard face, if possible, only looks more grey. “Our facility is under new management. They want us to buy out the remaining mortgage or they’re putting the gym up for auction.”

“What kind of management?” Rey asks.

His gaze is hard, words clipped. “They’re a front for the First Order.” He looks at her underneath his bushy brows. “Do you understand now?”

Rey swallows. Her fingers dig into the fabric of her leggings. The rest of the staff fall silent, even Poe lifelessly sliding back into his folding chair.

Winning against the First Order, the most powerful organized crime syndicate in Giffah, would be next to impossible.

“We have two months and three more competitions,” Luke states. “Make the best of them.” 

With that, he leaves.

Rey tries to breathe. Just breathe. 

\--

Jab. Cross. “We can get that sixty thousand.”

Hook. Left roundhouse. “How? Having a car wash?”

Slip. Right roundhouse. “No, not a  _ car wash. _ ” Jab, jab, cross, hook. “...DJ.”

Finn lowers the kickshield Rey had repaired the night before, if only so she could see his expression of discontent. “No way.” 

Rey shifts her weight from left to right foot, wiping the back of her glove across her forehead. “It’s better than doing nothing!”

“ _ Rey, _ ” Finn hisses, eyes darting from side to side to make sure none of their teammates are paying attention as they do their own partner drills. “He’s barely better than going straight to the First Order-- you remember that loan he set me up with.”

She does. And how he and Rose ended up having to pay back about a 300% interest rate. Trying to help open up Rose’s garage had almost wiped out Finn completely. They had only been able to recover because Ben…

Rey drops her stance. Lets go of a long exhale. “And I wasn’t thinking about seeing him for a loan.”

Now, Finn drops the kickshield altogether. “Rey,  _ no. _ ”

She tilts her chin up. “You don’t think I can win?”

“It’s not about whether or not you can win,” he whispers, taking a step closer to her so not to be overheard. “It’s that those fights are dangerous. And  _ illegal _ .” He scowls. “You know I used to help organize them when we got here. They’re  _ First Order sponsored. _ ”

Rey rolls her shoulders. “Even better. We take our money back from them.”

Finn’s scowl deepens. “You’re serious about this.”

“Yes.”

“How serious?”

“Very.”

“As in you’d do it without telling me.”

“Correct.”

Finn swears. “I’m coming with.” He smiles with absolutely no humor. “I’ll be your manager.” 

Her body uncoils from the stress it was hosting. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “We don’t go for any fights over a 10 grand purse, got it? Anything higher, and it’s likely to be bareknuckle or worse.” He points a finger at her. “And the second, the  _ second  _ you break something in a fight, we’re out.”

She wraps her hand around his extended finger, giving it a shake. “Deal.”

“For the record, I have a bad feeling about this.”

“That’s probably fair.”

\--

Rey first met DJ three years ago, when she was 18. He had been watching one of her fights in the Takodana Trouble Tournament. She’d won it, but barely, and had been sitting to the side holding ice to the back of her neck to get her nose to stop bleeding when he approached her.

“Face not too bad yet,” he had said in greeting, using the edge of his pinkie nail to dig out something stuck between his teeth. 

She’d glared at him. He responded with a shrug.

“It’s okay,” he said, as though excusing her. He sat beside her on the edge of the ring, effortlessly offering her a business card between middle and index fingers. “Call me sometime, hm? Good money. Or don’t. Up to you.”

No sooner than Rey had grabbed the card, he was gone. A blank business card with only a phone number scribbled on it with Sharpie. When she called it, there had been an automated message stating upcoming fights and purses. She had slammed the phone down on the receiver faster than lightning.

Now, she was calling again.

_ “Hello. State your name, age, and weightclass.” _

“Rey Jakku. Twenty one. Featherweight.”

“ _ Thank you.” _

The line went dead. Rey lightly hit the back of her head against a nearby wall. 

She was in.


	2. happy trails to you

Rey rolls over in her bed when she hears her cell phone vibrating against the wood surface of her nightstand. She fumbles around, eyes still closed, until her hands wrap around it.

Yawning, she pushes herself into a seat and squints at the cracked screen. 5:49am. Unknown number. Her stomach feels heavy as she swipes her thumb, answering.

“Hello?” She mumbles, shaking herself awake.

DJ’s voice is crystal clear:

“Canto, Door 3. Stay outside of it. Ten o’clock. Don’t be late.”

The line goes dead.

She draws in a deep breath and swipes off her phone. For a moment, she just stares at the crack across it, her thumbnail tracing into the groove.

\--

_They officially met when she was eighteen. Rey had seen him around the gym before, of course. It was hard to miss a six foot something hulk with a scowl on his face. But they didn’t ever speak-- Rey wasn’t a coach yet, so it was only through the silent comradery of running through drills, doing HIIT circuits, and stretching out in classes that they knew one another. She was a passable fighter on their competition team, with an early record of 4-3, but she was still too rough around the edges to attract any real attention._

_Which was part of why she was at the gym after hours, working on her form as she ran through combo after combo. Power. Speed. Technique. It was an endless loop that Rey appreciated, something that could get her blood going and zone out her regular thoughts. She had earbuds in that were connected to an app that chimed out round markers between songs, helping her keep time. Helping her catch up._

_There’s the sound of a buzz that cuts through the music in her ears, and at first Rey ignores it. It’s the key fob that all members have for access to the gym. But then she looks up, realizes that all the windows are darkened by a set sun, and she absently tugs out one of the buds and tilts her head. She’s breathing heavily, sweat getting into her eyes, but she ignores it as she brings the wires to rest around her neck and steps away from the heavy bag._

_“Hello?”_

_The door is slammed open, and this has Rey full-on frowning. No one slams_ anything _in this gym, or Luke would have their ass. And if not him, certainly Leia. Keeping her gloves on, Rey walks as quietly as she can toward the entrance of the gym--she’s good at doing things quiet, a trait she’s picked up from her time under Unkar._

_There, in a half-collapsed pile by the door, is that six foot something hulk. He’s in gym clothes--black track pants and a black Under Armor pullover, but anything else she can’t make out in the dark or the near-fetal position he’s fallen into._

_“Shit,” she exhales, using her teeth to pull off the velcro of her training gloves. She lets them fall to the floor and rushes forward._

_“Hey,” Rey mutters, kneeling down. She thinks about it for a second, then puts her hand on his shoulder. There’s no reaction to her touch and the thought hits her that_ this is bad. _“What’s going on?”_

_He’s panting, hair in a chaotic mess and half of it obscuring his face. But she can see his eyes look up, trying to figure out who it is that’s talking to him._

_“You’re the girl,” he mumbles, and his tone makes her think he might have a concussion._

_“I don’t know what that means,” she says gently. “Can you stand?”_

_He still has the wherewithal to look insulted at the question, so she figures he can’t be too bad. It’s not until he shuffles up, and quite literally slumps on her, that she remembers that this man is tall. And tall means dead weight._

_She bends her knees, and half drags him to one of the locker room benches. It’s then that she notices he’s bleeding from somewhere under his hair, that his left eye is starting to puff up from swelling. That his hands aren’t wrapped and the knuckles are covered in red scrapes. That he keeps softly punching somewhere on the left side of his torso._

_“Oy! What are you doing?!” She smacks his arm down._

_His eyes widen at her. As if she were...audacious. Or something. “Ribs.”_

_“Yes. You’re hitting them.”_

_“Checking if they’re broken.”_

_“You don’t do that by hitting them. Are you drunk?”_

_He glares._

_She glares right back, feeling her nose scrunch._

_“Don’t move that arm,” she warns._

_Like she’s done a thousand times for herself and Finn, she grabs the edge of his pullover and lifts it. Her fingers lightly trace over the raised bones of his ribs, and she hears a hitch in his breathing. Not good._

_“How long has your breathing been coming in short?”_

_“No.”_

_She looks up at him. “That wasn’t a yes or no question.”_

_His lips press together in a line. She shakes her head._

_“I’m not feeling a break, but that doesn’t mean much. Have you been coughing?”_

_“No.”_

_“Okay.” She pulls her phone out of the armband on her bicep, pressing into an app that’ll turn on a flashlight. “I’m going to check for a concussion-”_

_He swats her phone away. It clatters hard against the bench._

_What an ass._

_“Well,” she says, a little testy despite herself. “Hopefully I can still call you an Uber to the hospital.”_

_“I’m fine.”_

_“You’re bleeding from your hair.”_

_He stares down at her, where she still knees before his bare torso. There’s definitely a frown on his face. And blood in his hair._

_“Then_ you _call them,” he states like a command._

_Rey closes her eyes. Counts to five._

_“Yes,” she says, endlessly patient. “That is...what I offered to do.”_

_He grunts out something that sounds like approval. Rey pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs._

_What was supposed to be a night spent training followed by a Netflix movie with Finn turns into an eight-hour wait in an emergency room, three different people asking her if she knew how he injured himself (she did not), bad bruising on his torso (thankfully no breaks), a mild concussion, and sixty-five stitches above the temple. She learns from his doctor that his name is Ben Solo, that he’s twenty-eight, and that he does not have an emergency contact listed but rather good medical insurance that she has no idea how to file forms for on his behalf-- or if she can, if that’s legal. It probably isn’t. By the time he’s released, it’s three in the morning and she’s been given a packet of instructions she’s too tired to read._

_“Is there anyone we can call?” The doctor? Nurse? Someone in scrubs, asks her for not the first time. She gently takes back the scribbled out insurance form on the clipboard from Rey’s grasp._

_“I have no idea,” she replies around a yawn. “We’re just gym mates.”_

_“Well, he’ll need to be watched for at least twenty-four hours by a caregiver.”_

_Rey suspects there goes her weekend. “Alright.”_

_The scrub-woman frowns for just a second, before going through a list of things to look for that Rey tries her best to remember._

_When Ben’s released, he stares at her in a way that is both bleary and shocked. But he doesn’t protest when she calls an Uber for the both of them, and only gives her a confused and slightly panicked look when she asks him for his apartment key once they arrive._

_“What are you doing?”_

_She snatches the keys before he can hold onto them tighter or put them in a pocket. “Caregiving.”_

_He’s too...well, concussed, probably, to put up much of a protest. And so Rey spends her night uneventfully binging Top Gear on Ben’s couch and periodically waking him up every two hours where he’s passed out in his room. It’s a bit like poking a bear._

_Around nine or so in the morning, she’s near delirious from the lack of sleep when he shuffles out, blinking at her and looking admittedly more focused._

_She is still in her workout clothes and eating some trail mix she found in one of his cubbies. Top Gear Season 3 is in full swing._

_“You’re still here,” he rasps, and he sounds like he doesn’t know how to feel about that. Rey can hardly blame him-- she’s not good with strangers in her space, either._

_Rey nods, not quite feeling human with no sleep. “There’s, um, a packet for you to follow. And then you’re supposed to swap out the bandages-” she taps above her temple, “-after you shower. And ice your ribs. Tylenol is okay, but nothing that’s going to thin your blood because of the concussion-”_

_He’s just. Staring at her. She tilts up her chin, and presses on._

_“-So nothing like aspirin or anything. And I wasn’t able to figure out your insurance, so you’ll probably have to call the hospital for that. You have to be watched for another...” She looks at her phone (with a new crack in the screen), “Nine hours, so you should probably get someone, since I’ve got work in two.”_

_Her fingers dig into the bag of trail mix, only to find trail-mix-debris and carefully averted raisins. “And I guess I owe you a new bag of this. But I did pay for the Uber, both times, and you cracked my phone, so I think I’m okay in calling this square, yeah?”_

_He blinks. She thinks that’s good. His voice is groggy and deep:_

_“Who are you?”_

_She manages a little smile. “I’m Rey. From Resistance. You sort of bled all over the place.”_

_He watches her for a few moments, before biting on his lower lip and looking down. “Sorry.”  
The word sounds strange, coming from him. Forced, almost. _

_Rey gets up, brushing some stray crumbs from her pants. They scatter over his otherwise pristine floor, but she doesn’t care too much about that. “It’s alright. You have someone to call?”_

_He nods. She notices that his attention is on the crumbs._

_“Good. That’s good. I’ll be off, then.” Not knowing what else to do, she gives him a strange wave._

_Ben doesn’t seem to know what to do just as much as she does. And so with that, she awkwardly moves to the door and shuts it quickly behind her._

_She doesn’t know that he stares at it long after she’s gone. And maybe that’s part of the concussion, but then again, maybe it isn’t._

\--

Canto Bight casino is _the_ most obnoxious place Rey can think of being. That feeling doesn’t fade as she stands outside door 3, hood over her head and feet moving back and forth in a warm-up boxer’s stance.

To her side, Rose rubs her arms, glaring at the parking lot before them.

“I hate this place,” she states, not for the first time. “And-” she sends Rey A Pointed Look, “-I hate DJ.”

“We’re not fans, either,” Finn disclaims. He’s wearing a hoodie like Rey and some jogger sweats. Only Rose, wearing her grease-stained overalls from the garage and a Carhart jacket, isn’t in fighting clothes. “This is going to go bad.”

Rey exhales, her breath a puff of air in the cold February night. “Thanks for the votes of confidence, all.”

Rose frowns. “It’s not that we think you can’t win, you know.”

“I know.”

“It’s just that we think it’s a stupid, stupid idea.”

Rey looks up. “I _know._ ”

“So long as that’s covered.” Rose smiles, and gives her a pat on the arm. “We’ve got you. In fact, I’m making myself your agent.”

“She’s already got a manager,” Finn grumbles.

“Not the same thing.”

Rey smiles at her two closest friends. “Thank you both for coming. I mean it.”

Finn runs a hand over his head, sighing. Then looks at his watch, a way to avoid having to say _you’re welcome_ to a plan he doesn’t entirely support. “Didn’t he say to not be late? It’s twenty after.”

“Typical,” Rose mutters, unimpressed. Rey doesn’t doubt that if she left Rose and DJ alone the latter would be on the business end of a wrench.

“That’s his car,” Rey says after a few minutes of silent waiting.

An old junker of a VW Rabbit wheezes up to the curb. The three of them watch it with matched, unimpressed expressions.

DJ rolls out, wearing a long coat with a fur collar and far too many gold rings. “Hey, right on time.”

“ _You_ weren’t,” Rose counters.

DJ squints at her, then smiles in a slow recognition. “Garage girl, yeah?”

“Garage girl,” she confirms with the actual voice of death.

“And the boyfriend!” He waves at Finn who does not wave back. Unaffected, DJ turns his attention to Rey. “Ready?”

She nods, going to grab the door handle-

“No, no no.” DJ’s voice stops her, and she turns to face him. His car is still running. “That’s not how they do things. Gonna have to drive you.”

The three of them speak simultaneously:

“Where?”  
“No!”  
“Hell no.”

DJ makes a show of looking at his rings, running his thumb over them. “Want to play? Follow the rules. Not my rules.”

Rey steps forward, and DJ extends a hand. Confused, Rey goes to put hers in it-

He shakes his head. “No, phone. Can’t have phones in the fights.”

“Rey,” Finn growls behind her, clearly wanting to bail.

She stares at DJ skeptically for a few moments, before she places the phone in his hand.

He pockets it then nods, and tilts his head at Rose. “They coming, too?”

Rose rolls her eyes, striding up and slamming her phone in DJ’s palm. Finn repeats it, his gaze overtly hostile.

“Chin up,” DJ says as he offers them blindfolds and an opened car door. “We’re gonna have fun tonight.”

\--

_“We’re going to have fun tonight!” Poe cries out in that gleefully sadistic way of his that tells Rey there will be burpees in her immediate future._

_Paige Tico, one of the more experienced fighters at the gym and a Jiu Jitsu specialist, seems to agree because she groans. She lowers her head toward Rey as they stretch on the mats, conspirators. “That means burpees. And abs. Lots of abs.”_

_Rey presses her head to the floor in defeat as she retains a pigeon pose. She’s still exhausted from all that happened last week, unable to get her sleep schedule regulated after the all-nighter. But if Poe, resident team captain, said they had workout tonight, they had workout tonight._

_She’s about to surrender herself to the inevitable, and stretch out her Important Burpee Muscles, when someone walks onto the floor. She senses them in her peripheral vision, but gives the latecomer no mind until she hears Poe address him._

_“Bennie!” Poe says in the same tone, “Joining us?”_

_Rey turns. Standing right next to her is Ben. He has a shiner over his left eye, but it’s no longer swollen-- she can see that he’s lanced it, a small cut running diagonal underneath his brow. With his handwraps on, there’s nothing else to give away the injuries he's sustained._

_He stares at her, before he rolls his shoulders and begins to stretch, not moving from his place beside her or acknowledging Poe’s jab._

_Rey frowns, and when Ben hits the floor to start leg and hip flexor stretches she whispers. “Sure you’re supposed to be up already?”_

_“Are you concerned?”_

_The question throws her a little bit, and she turns to face him as she goes into another leg stretch. “I caregave, remember?”_

_He sends her a look that...that almost looks like he wants to laugh. He stretches out his calves by reaching for his toes, and his thigh brushes lightly against hers._

_“Then be my partner.”_

_She blinks. “What?”_

_“Tonight.” He isn’t looking at her, suddenly finding his kneecap fascinating. “Be my partner.”_

_Not sure of what else to say, Rey only nods. “Alright.”_

_They run drills together, Rey mindful of the bruising on his left side and anything close to a headstrike. If Ben has to take more breaks than usual, or if the occasional hard cough interrupts his runs at the kickshield or blocking mitts, Rey has the good grace to ignore it._

_Immediately, she’s thrown by how well they compliment each other. He’s slow, but powerful-- his strikes less frequent but heavier. She’s faster and agile, able to bring her kicks higher and integrate knee and elbow strikes into her combinations easier than he can. Obviously, she knows he’s holding back-- but so is she, and there’s a thrill of anticipation as she brings her leg up for another roundhouse into the kickshield he braces: this is someone who will push her to be better._

_As soon as time is called for workout, Ben is gone before she can say anything. She’s annoyed, and maybe more upset than she’d care to admit, until she sees a bag of trail mix tucked into her gym bag in the locker room._

\--

The Rabbit sputters to a stop.

“We’re here,” DJ announces. Rey hears the tap tap tap of his rings against the steering wheel.

Rey rolls her shoulders, and one hand carefully pushes up the blindfold.


	3. a liar and a late person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warnings** this chapter for descriptions of boxing injuries!

_ The locker closes, and Rey slumps down to the bench like some kind of invertebrate jelly. Her chest rises and falls with the heavy breaths leftover from the spars, where she had fought Paige Tico for six rounds-- double than normal matches in amateur league. _

_ She thinks she won. Rey grabs the edge of her shirt and lifts it, wiping the sweat from her face and exposing her abdomen. _

_ It’s not until she lowers her shirt that she realizes Ben is standing in the entryway, eyes trained somewhere on the floor. Over the last three months, they’d become regular sparring partners. And friends, really. Rey had come to look forward to the classes they’d both attend, the open mat hours they sparred during. On paper, he was near her polar opposite, but there was something about him that made her feel comfortable-- an essential for a regular combat partner. _

_ “What’s up?” She asks, when it’s clear he doesn’t know what he wants to say. Rey is starting to learn his silences, the things he communicates with glares or downturned lips or--rarely and wonderfully--smiles. _

_ “Your match,” he starts. _

_ She thuds the back of her head against the locker. “Exhausting.” _

_ “You pull back when you fight your friends.” _

_ Rey blinks, straightening. “What?” _

_ “Against Tico. You weren’t hitting her as hard as you can.” His eyes are imploring her of something she’s not able to quite figure out. “You work harder in drills.” _

_ “Against you, you mean.” _

_ “It’s disappointing.” _

_ Anger flares through her, because she has heard ‘ _ disappointing’  _ one too many times in her life, but she thinks before she speaks. And eventually her mind works through it. _

_ “...Are you mad I don’t fight you like a friend?” _

_ He’s quiet, and she sees him visibly swallow. “You’re wasting potential,” he mumbles, “That’s all.” _

_ She doesn’t know how to respond to his unsolicited and borderline rude advice. So Rey just stares at him. He makes no move to leave, his hands jammed in the pockets of his grey, cotton sweats and his jaw clenched. Wanting to cut the stretch of silence, Rey starts unwrapping her hands in a slow, repetitive motion. _

_ “Dinner,” he finally bites out. _

_ “What?” _

_ “I’m getting dinner.” _

_ “Okay.” _

_ He lets out a grunt that sounds distinctly annoyed. “Come with.”  _

_ Rey stares at him, wide-eyed. Ben’s never once asked her to do something outside the gym, and now that it’s offered she’s not sure what to make of it. He watches her carefully as he awaits her answer. _

_ Finally, she fidgets with her rolled up wraps. “Let me change.” _

_ Relief is a tangible thing about him, like he was bracing himself for a wave that finally washed over. And he gives her one of those rare and wonderful smiles-- a small one, not showing any teeth or making the deep dimples in his face that she’s come to love. But nice, all the same. _

_ \-- _

This place couldn’t look more stereotypical if it tried. Rey watches quietly as DJ leads them through a warehouse, the interior grey and industrial and washed out aside from the yellow-tinted lights hanging from the rafters. There’s bodies everywhere-- two fight stages, one a ring another a caged octagon, with massive crowds gathered around both. Rey hears a cacophony of shouts and heckles coming from them, the spectators not people but waves of hands that are holding up betting money, lit cigarettes and cigars, or alcohol. Music pounds from the sides of the space, large speakers shouting some kind of rock band Rey can’t identify.

As they walk further and further into the crowd, she notices the stares. DJ and Finn grab onlooker attention. Rey knows Finn used to run with the First Order when they first moved to Takodana, but she doesn’t know for sure what it was he used to do other than the occasional fight promotion. From the hand that Rose has on her boyfriend’s arm and the quick, nervous looks she keeps shooting Rey, it’s clear that her best friend is feeling tense at being here.

_ It’s for the Resistance,  _ she reminds herself, as she casually sidesteps two medics dragging out a fighter, his face bloody and swollen.

Her eyes go toward the back of the warehouse, where there’s tables obviously meant to be check-ins. The people in line aren’t wearing what she’d expect--they’re all clad in jeans and boots. Those were the fighters? 

“Two choices, five grand or fifty grand. Which one?”

Rey blinks, turning her attention away from her potential opponents. “What?”

DJ narrows his eyes at her. “Five k. Fifty k. More zeroes. Pick.”

“Five thousand,” Finn says firmly. 

DJ hasn’t looked away from her. 

Recalling Finn’s warning, Rey nods. “Five thousand will do on this one.”

The bookie slash loan shark slash...everything else stares at her for another beat before shrugging. “Suit yourself. Corner team goes there-” he points to a small station that hosts a long table. “-you, come with me.”

“We go where Rey goes,” Rose argues.

DJ shakes his head. Once again he points to a table. “You. Go there.”

“We’ll see you at the ring,” Finn cuts off before Rose’s next protest, resting a hand on her shoulder. He meets Rey’s eyes. “Be smart, okay?”

“I will,” she promises, meaning it. There’s so many risk factors involved that she’s not going to let bullheadedness add to them. 

DJ slaps her on the back, which makes her stumble a half-step forward, and then he turns and walks down a long hall. 

Rey follows him, the noise and lights both dimming as he leads her to what looks like a locker room set-up. She observes it passively, and avoids making eye contact with any of the athletes already there, all of whom are sizing her up. 

“Five grand means wraps okay,” DJ instructs. “Well, not wraps. But, y’know. The…” he makes a whirring motion around his hand.

“Gauze?” Rey offers.

He nods. “Your corner can do that for you ring side. Can’t do it in the locker rooms anymore, not since that one guy brought in brass knuckles. I’ll come get you in a half hour.” He stares at her, rubbing his chin. “Face still not too bad. Don’t wear a shirt.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dirty old men pay dirty old dollars,” he says without a smile. “They tend to bet on pretty ones. Be a pretty one.”

Rey doesn’t feel happy about the circumstances, but fighting in a sports bra and shorts is nothing new. So she nods. 

DJ gives her a grim smile, and pats her on the shoulder. “You want a name?”

“It’s Rey.”

“No, a  _ name. _ Killer. Scavenger. Something like that, hm?”

She thinks about it, then shakes her head. “I’d rather be a nobody.”

“Nobody,” DJ rubs his chin again. “Can work with that. Be back soon. No shoes.” 

He jams his hands into the pockets of his oversized fur coat and leaves, whatever he's whistling echoing down the hall. 

Rey stands in the center of the locker room, avoiding any stares, and begins to plait her hair back so it can’t be grabbed easily.

\--

_ ‘Dinner’ ends up being some fried stuff and beers at Maz’s dive bar. Rey’s not old enough to order alcohol, but Ben buys two and no one questions it when he slides her a bottle. She takes a deep drink of it, then starts helping herself to some of Ben’s fries. _

_ “Scavenger,” he remarks, as Rey takes another and dips it into the ketchup between them. _

_ “You invited,” she counters, chomping down. The grease tastes like heaven even though she knows she’ll have to hit the jump rope tomorrow morning. “Coach would kill us both if he knew we were eating this.” _

_ Ben’s face goes dark. “I don’t listen to Luke.” _

_ “Why not?” _

_ “It’s complicated.” When she rolls her eyes at that, he elaborates. “He’s my uncle.” _

_ Rey stares at him. _

_ “What?” He says, defensive. _

_ She shrugs. “You don’t look alike.” _

_ There’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but it seems like he wants to cover it up, because he takes one of her onion rings and bites into it. _

_ They spend the rest of the night at the bar comfortably. At Rey’s insistence, Maz switches the television over to a UFC fight. Her and Ben watch, clinking their bottles together whenever Mara “The Hand” Jade gets a good shot against her opponent. Rey cheers, and yells, and swears, but Ben just sits next to her at the bar, smiling quietly and letting the side of his arm touch hers. _

\--

She rests her arms on the apron of canvas outside the ropes, eyes trained across the ring where her opponent stands with his corner team. Her arm is numb as Finn wraps tape and gauze around her hands, threading thinner strands of it between her fingers. He’s her trainer and manager both, tonight. 

Her opponent is a man with brown hair and stern, square features. He sends her openly hostile glares as his trainer wraps his hands in sync with Finn. She’s not intimidated. The Resistance gym actively promotes co-ed sparring and partner drills, and it doesn’t look like he’s built to be a power hitter or out-fighter. 

“Do we know anything about him?” Rey asks Finn quietly.

He doesn’t look up from his task. “His name’s Mitaka. Got kicked out of amateur league four or five years ago for doping. 2 and 7 record, nothing spectacular.” There’s a hint of a smirk on his face. “You’ll wipe the floor with him.”

Rey grins. Then realizes her corner is missing someone important. “Where’s the cutman?” 

Finn snorts. “You’re going to love this.”

Rose pops up at his side, holding a bucket. “That’ll be me.”

Rey eyes her in disbelief. “You run a garage.”

“And I’m certified in first aid and have seen _Creed._ The movie, not the band. Thank god.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Rose looks uncertain, but plasters on a brave smile anyway. “It’s either that or theirs. And he looks slimey.” 

Rey tries to match Rose’s smile, but she feels far more nervous now. The job of the cutman was invaluable in matches. Between rounds, they were responsible for reducing swelling, stitching up wounds, and stopping the bleeding from broken noses or lacerations. They had next to no time to do their work, and it required fast hands and steady nerves.

She exhales. Rose has those things in spades, at least. If not medical expertise.

“I’ll help her,” Finn says. “And she’s right, their cutman is shifty.”

Rey rolls her shoulders. “Okay, I trust you.” 

Rose’s smile goes a little bigger as she opens the vaseline to apply to Rey’s face. The oily substance would work to help prevent cuts. 

The mechanic paints thick, horizontal stripes of it underneath her eyes. “Kick his ass!”

\--

_ After that night in the bar, it’s like a switch is flipped. They’re not just gym partners but actual friends. At least, Rey thinks so. And Ben has yet to contradict the statement. _

_ He’s always around, for one. When she’s done with class, or sparring, or her one-on-ones with Poe, he’ll be sitting outside the locker room, as though this is where he usually spends his time. Most nights, he walks her home.  _

_ That’s how he meets Finn.  _

_ They’re almost to Rey’s place when her phone vibrates. She looks down at the screen (still cracked) and her eyes widen. “Shit!” _

_ Her large, silent companion looks down at her. “What is it?” _

_ She grins. “I forgot it’s Mara Jade’s huge match tonight, she’s going up against Boba Fett.” Her grin morphs into a full-fledged smile and a soft look crosses Ben’s face. “He’s out of retirement for this, you know.” _

_ “Go watch it, then.” _

_ “Don’t be an idiot. Come on, we’ll go to Maz’s--” She pauses in her step. “Actually, wait here. I’ll grab Finn.” _

_ The soft look fades, slightly. “Who.” _

_ “My best friend. He lives with me. Hold on, I’ll text him.” _

_ Ben doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, but Rey notices there’s a tension in the air. She brushes it off, not thinking it’s serious enough to decipher it. But then it thickens when Finn climbs down the fire escape to meet them. And gets worse when they go to the bar, where Finn takes a seat between the two of them. _

_ Rey tries to shake the feeling off, making it a point to clink her bottle with both of their glasses everytime Mara Jade sinks a hook. _

_ But it doesn’t leave. And Ben is drinking beers faster than Maz can take his orders. And Rey watches Ben with growing concern between rounds as he slams drink after drink and pointedly doesn’t look at her. _

\--

It’s like a switch being flipped. Suddenly, Rey feels eyes on her-- measuring her up, just like the fighters in the locker room. She’s used to it, and so squares her shoulders and slowly shrugs off her hoodie. Underneath, she has a black sports bra and a pair of black shorts. Nothing fancy. Nothing that’ll stick out.

“Hot crowd,” a man’s voice observes dryly to her side. 

Rey half turns, seeing someone well into his forties, with shoulder-length brown hair streaked with grey. There’s stubble on his chin, and aviators over his eyes. And he looks damn familiar.

He sends her a glance, smiles. “You the new fighter DJ dragged in?”

“Yes.”

Something about his face scrunches, and Rey thinks he might be attempting a wink that is invisible behind the sunglasses. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

“Don’t-”

He slides under the ropes and into the ring. Suddenly, he has a microphone in hand. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he booms, “Welcome to one of our opening fights this evening. Bets are due now, if you’re going to make them.”

Rey breathes in. She gets the feeling that somewhere, DJ is collecting several bills and pocketing them.

“In this corner, certified Dopehead Mitaka-”

Her opponent’s face goes red, and several boo’s echo around the crowd. Rey feels a surge of relief, searching for DJ’s stare in the crowd. He’d set her up with an easy match against an unpopular opponent. When their stares connect, he gives her a slow smile before he goes back to shuffling the money in his hand.

“And in this corner…” The man lifts up his aviators and squints at something written on his palm. “No...body. Nobody?” He looks down at her. “Really?”

Rey shrugs. Rose smacks her arm lightly a few times with the back of her hand, and she looks down.

“That’s  _ Kyp Durron,”  _ she hiss-whispers. 

“No way,” Finn says, but he’s squinting at the MC closely. “Kyp Durron? The Dozen's Kyp Durron? The disgraced MMA fighter, Kyp Durron?”

“Yes!”

Rey ignores the observation, knowing she’ll find it hilarious later. Instead, she slips under the ropes, and takes her side of the ring. Mitaka follows.

“All bets in?” Kyp actual Durron asks. There’s a series of shouts, and he nods. “Alright, let’s get this shitshow on the road then. As a reminder, the rules.”

He lifts up one finger. “We don’t do TKOs.” The crowd cheers. Kyp rolls his eyes, and lifts up another finger. “If someone taps out, we let them.” The crowd boos. 

He lifts up another. “If they tapout before they start bleeding, we laugh at them forever.” And, finally, his thumb. “And this is a  _ boxing  _ match. Kickboxing and muay thai hits allowed, but no grappling. Dopehead, you ready?”

Dopehead scowls, and punches his hands together sharply.

“Sure,” Kyp says non-committedly, before turning toward Rey’s corner. “And you nobody?”

She puts in her mouthguard. Nods.

“Then let’s get ready to rumble. Or whatever.” Kyp hops out of the ring, then spins his microphone hand over his head in a circle. “Ring that bell!”

The crowd roars. Rey shifts her weight from side to side, and goes into her stance. She puts her breath into a rhythm, trains her gaze to focus on Mitaka and Mitaka alone. After a few moments, everything becomes static. Her eyes have tunnel vision, her body hums with unspent energy. 

She’s ready to move. Ready to fight. 

And win.

Rey tucks in her elbows and brings her gloves up to her face.

In the distance, a bell rings.

\--

_ By the end of the fight, which Mara Jade dominated, Ben is completely shitfaced and it takes both Finn and Rey to drag him out after last call. She recalls, not fondly, that the man is a hulk and also entirely deadweight when he’s semi-conscious. Inconvenient. She needs only short friends. _

_ “How much does a guy this big have to drink to get like this?” Finn says around a grunt, as they lift him from the bar stool in a combined effort. _

_ “A keg?” Rey offers, unhelpful. Her body goes into a crouch as she slings one of Ben’s arms around her shoulders.  _

_ Once they each have an arm, they look at each other. _

_ “On three?” Finn suggests. _

_ Rey nods. _

_ “One, two, three-!”  _

_ They lift. While they’re both not  _ short,  _ Ben still has almost half a foot on Rey, and only a little less on Finn. His legs drag out behind them because of it, and Rey feels apologetic as his trainers go through bar floor and then dirty snow. In seconds, they’re both heaving breath as they make it to an outside bench. After Ben is propped up on it, Finn steps away to call him an Uber, and Rey--officially tapped out after her spar and deadlifting 200-something pounds--slumps next to him. _

_ “Rey?” He slurs, head lolling back like a baby.  _

_ God, he’s gone. She lightly elbows him. “Yeah?” _

_ Ben takes in a deep breath and swallows. When he speaks, she’s thrown by the absolute  _ sadness  _ in it. As though he’s heard some of the worst news of his life. He doesn’t look away from the stars. _

_ “I’m a fucking idiot,” he confesses, softly. _

_ She shifts in her position so she can face him, folding one of her legs under her to keep her butt off the cold seat. “Why?” _

_ Ben closes his eyes, and never answers her question. Soon the Uber comes, goes, and Rey is staring after it, not sure why she feels so miserable. _

\--

An average round lasts for three minutes in amateur league. This has easily been five.

It’s not surprising that he’s quick and violent. Rey weaves to the left, barely avoiding a swipe at her jaw. So far he’s managed to make solid connections with her right hip, her right ribs, and her right shoulder. 

_ Gee,  _ comes a voice in her mind that sounds far too much like Luke.  _ Maybe guard your right. _

Mitaka is fast. Rey can be faster. 

He swings forward as soon as she pops up from her crouch, his arm striking out without clear form. He’s getting tired, lazy. She slips it, then rears back her left leg and slams it up in a knee strike.

It hits. Right in the stomach. 

As he stumbles back, she hears the crowd-- Rose’s HELL YES rising slightly above the others. She can’t pay attention to it right now. She brings her left knee forward again. He half-blocks it, but it’s clear he’s winded. As her leg falls back to the canvas, she presses with a cross, and it slams right into the side of his jaw.

A spray of red-tinted spit goes out at the connection, as Mitaka’s head snaps to the left. She doesn’t hesitate, shifting her weight and bringing back her right leg. She puts all the power of her core into the motion as she swings it forward and roundhouses his right side. 

He slips, but her shin still catches his torso. Rey doesn’t hear the snap she was wanting-- the break of a rib that would for sure signal a tapout and an end of the match, but his upper body does bend to the right as he cries out. Something hurts.

She’s got him. Rey brings up her left elbow for a strike that will break his nose-

-and his fist connects, hard, against her cheek. Black stars flood her vision, and Rey stumbles. She raises her forearms in front of her chest just in time to block another shot, but she’s disoriented. There’s the taste of copper in her mouth, and she bites her teeth together to make sure none of them are loose. A safe pass, there. Stupidly, she lets an arm drop and she knows what’s coming before it hits.

There’s the sensation of a heel on her chest, and Rey falls flat on her back from the strength of Mitaka’s front kick. 

A bell rings.

End of round.   
  


\--

_ He’s avoiding her, and she doesn’t know why. For the first week, Rey thought maybe he was embarrassed for getting completely knockered. But then another week rolled by, and another, and not once did he come to training while she was there. Or walk her home. Or text. _

_ When it had past a month, she started to grow concerned. He now had a proven track record of passing out with concussions in the dark of night, after all.  _

_ And...she hadn’t done anything to change things between them. She  _ hadn’t. _So th_ _ is could only be bullshit ghosting and she wasn’t going to stand for it. _

_ She decides to go to the source of all gossip at the Resistance. The middle of the spider’s web. _

_ “Poe!” she calls out after she’s done running her third kickboxing class.  _

_ He doesn’t look up from the paperwork on his desk. “Yeah?” _

_ “Where’s Ben?” _

_ “Like, right now?” _

_ “Generally.” _

_ He sends her an arch look from under his curly hair. “Trouble in paradise?” _

_ Genuine confusion hits her. “We’re not dating.” _

_ Poe shifts back in his seat, blinks. “What, really?” _

_ “Yes?” _

_ “Damn. Now I owe Finn.”  _

_ Rey closes her eyes. Counts to five. “Where is he?” _

_ “Oh,” Poe shrugs. “He’s been training during the 8am slots. Thought you’d know that.” _

_ Right when she works at Rose’s.  _ Intentionally  _ right when she works at Rose’s. _

_ Rey nods, determined. “Thanks.” _

_ “No problem--wait, where are you going?” _

\--

Rose is actually a remarkable cutman. Her hands move quickly, putting cold compresses on Rey’s hip, cheek, and chest. The laceration on her shoulder is stitched up fast even if it’s a little more painful than usual. 

“Your right guard sucks,” Finn says, unimpressed as he watches Rose do her work.

Rey blinks, clearing her vision and catching her breath. 

“I know,” she mumbles near incoherently around her mouthguard.

“I’ve seen you fight better at practice. What’s going on?” He kneels down, eyes searching hers. “Rey?”

She shakes her head. She needs to stop thinking. She knows she needs to stop thinking. 

“Pretend he’s Ben,” Rose suggests nonchalantly, as she knots and cuts the thread on Rey’s arm.

There’s a long pause.

“That...could work,” Finn offers.

Rey closes her eyes. Groans. Of course it could work.

A bell rings again. Rose slaps a bandage over Rey’s cut, and pushes her forward.

She stumbles a little, but there’s some relief in seeing that Mitaka’s looking hurt, too. He’s leaning to the left. His feet are flatter against the canvas than before.

Rey thinks about Ben. About stupid,  _ stupid  _ Ben.

What she does next makes Mitaka take a physical step back. She straightens her stance, brings her fists up in front of her chest. And lets out a loud, primal roar that bares her teeth and furrows her brow. 

The bell sounds off. 

Rey swings.

\--

_ She prowls back and forth on the mat, arms crossed and eyes routinely glancing at the door. The rest of the gym members watch, confused but mostly uneasy, as they decidely do not engage in the usual warm-up small talk. Except for Poe, who is leading the session and looks about five seconds away from microwaving some popcorn. _

_ Rey has switched one of her shifts. She’s at the 8am class. _

_ And Ben, of course, is fucking late. He’s always late. She doesn’t like that about him. _

_ The door opens. Ben saunters in with his bag over his shoulder. Rey maintains direct eye contact and watches him like a hawk as he awkwardly takes off his hoodie and wraps his hands. She prowls again, eyeing him as he comes around the chain-link fence and takes a place on the mat. _

_ Poe audibly snorts. Rey does not acknowledge it. Ben does with a glare over her shoulder. _

_ He slowly goes to a knee, getting ready to stretch his hips. Rey moves to stand directly over him. _

_ He looks up. Swallows. “Rey,” he manages in a level voice. _

_ “Ben,” she says carefully. _

_ “What are you doing.” _

_ “We’re partners today. Don’t even think about changing your mind.” _

_ He stares at her for a long time. Then gives a hesitant nod. Satisfied, Rey nods back, and goes across the mat to finish her stretches. _

\--

It’s not a direct knockout. First it’s a broken nose. Then what might be a cheek fracture. And when Rey winds up her leg for a left roundhouse, she hears a snap that is definitely a broken rib. 

Mitaka hits the canvas with a thud, and Rey prowls over him, her chest heaving and knuckles bloodied.

Another bell goes off.

“Well, shit.” Kyp’s voice on the microphone breaks her from her fog, has her blinking as adrenaline starts to fade out. “That was, what, thirty-five seconds?”

She shakes her head. Some of her hair’s come loose from its braid.

Slowly, it dawns on her that the fight is over. That she won.

Rey lets out a short laugh, bowing over to rest her hands on her knees.

\--

_ Workout goes by without any words between them. Rey might hit extra hard, and he might hit extra hard back, but they give nothing away. Instead, she lets her frustration at him out on the kickshield. The mitts. The bag. By the time an hour ends, they’re both heaving and watching each other warily -- him, a cornered animal, and her a predator determining when it’s the best time to strike. They’re still in gear, still sparring, even though most all of their teammates have packed up and shipped out. _

_ “Uh,” Poe says, shuffling past them with his gym bag in his hand and gear packed. “Lock up whenever this is over, yeah?” _

_ “Shut up Poe,” they say simultaneously.  _

_ He whistles, raising his hands in surrender, before he walks by and exits.  _

_ “It’s just you and me now,” Ben confirms.  _

_ What Rey really wants to do is just kick him in the shin. Hard. But instead she goes over to a heavy bag and starts punching it. There’s no method to her madness, just frustration. Uppercuts, hooks, jabs, and crosses fly as the bag begins to rock angrily back and forth from where it’s chained to the ceiling. _

_ After a moment, Ben gets on the other side of it. He starts punching as well, and Rey almost nods in approval. This feels right. Feels  _ better,  _ to talk about it while they can both hit things. _

_ “You’re ghosting me,” she says without preamble. Rey takes a step back and connects a hard roundhouse on the right side. Her shin hitting the leather makes a loud SMACK sound echo throughout the gym. _

_ “I wasn’t ghosting you,” he growls back as he does some elbow strikes. His kiaii when his glove connects to the bag comes out like a grunt. _

_ “You’re a liar and a late person.” Rey brings up the heel of her foot and  _ pushes  _ the bag forward. It swings from her front kick and knocks against Ben’s chest. _

_ He takes a step back, and Rey can see him clearly. He does not look happy.  _

_ “ _ I’m  _ the liar?” He whispers. There’s a quick series of punches against the bag that make it swing and bump into her. “What about Finn?” _

_ Rey moves around the bag and lets go of another roundhouse. If it almost clips Ben, oh well. “What about Finn?” _

_ Ben clenches his jaw. Delivers a kick so hard the bag’s chain rattles. “You live together.” _

_ “We’ve always lived together.” She grabs the bag and runs her left knee into it three times. It emulates a groin strike. “Like I said, we’re best friends. Why aren’t you answering my texts?” _

_ “Because you have someone!” He shouts, the departure from his agitated tone so loud and sudden that Rey’s arms drop their hold on the bag.  _

_ She takes a step back, so she can see his expression better. He’s clearly angry, but she doesn’t know who the target is. His gloved hands are folded behind his head and there’s a vein on his neck more visible than usual. Rey hesitates, before moving a little closer to him. _

_ “What?”  _

_ “Nevermind,” he snarls. He pulls off the velcro of his gloves with his teeth, shoving them off his hands, and throwing them on the ground.  _

_ Rey crosses her arms. “Knock it off and tell me what you mean by that.”  _

_ Ben looks at her, and his expression goes from furious to panicked when he realizes she’s not going to let him walk away without an answer. His black hair is a tangled mess in front of his eyes, but Rey sees them widen.  _

_ “It doesn’t matter,” he deflects. _

_ “Ben, it’s been over a month and you’ve been avoiding me.” She steps forward again. They’re close, now. Less than six inches apart. “Clearly it matters.” _

_ He watches her, lips pressed tightly together and the slightest of quivers to his chin. Their breathing was ragged anyway, but now there’s something different about his. Rey just returns his look, patiently waiting. She’s good at waiting. _

_ “I…” Ben’s gaze looks down at her mouth.  _

_ “You like me,” she realizes with a start. Her brows draw together as she searches his expression for some clue, a further indication to confirm her hypothesis. “Is that what it is? You like me?” _

_ He doesn’t say he does. But he doesn’t deny it, either. And she has figured out his silences. _

_ “...You should have just told me.” _

_ “Why?” He bites out, frustrated. Maybe a little hopeful, too. _

_ “So I wasn’t still mad at you when I do this.” _

_ “Do what-” _

_ Rey goes on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his. It’s a clumsy thing-- she still has her heavy gloves on, and he’s so  _ tall--  _ but it’s nice, she thinks. Even if he goes completely motionless. Even if he doesn’t quite respond. Because his breath still hitches in her ear. _

_ She pulls away, a little red in the cheeks as she slowly removes her gloves. “You don’t have to do anything if I pushed it-” _

_ His hands are gripping her hips and his mouth is hungrily descending on hers before she can finish out the sentence. Startled, she freezes for a moment before she leans into him. He moans, hands moving to the backs of her thighs to lift her. Rey complies, hopping up and wrapping her legs around his waist. _

_ Ben’s back hits a wall, and it all gets a little fuzzier after that. _

_ \-- _

“We have a winner! Nobody from nowhere who clearly doesn’t want to walk away with nothing.”

There’s a hand grabbing her forearm, and she pivots, ready to hit-

-Kyp Durron’s brows raise above the frame of his aviators. 

“Give them a smile,” he says under his breath, as he lifts their arms up over their heads.

Rey doesn’t. But she does fully snap out of the haze she’d been under, her eyes surveying the crowd. Most of them look upset-- people who bet on Mitaka, she imagines. DJ looks like he’s getting a second Christmas.

She gives a small smile to Finn and Rose, the latter swinging her arms up and cheering in victory. But once she looks past them, the expression falls.

There’s a tall figure standing in the back. Wearing a black suit with a black tie. 

Rey tries to see his face, and her breath catches when her eyes make contact with a pair of brown ones. They’re hard, carving right into her. 

Ben is in the audience.  
And he’s beyond angry.


	4. fireworks (going off too soon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter count miiiiight go up by one *squints* BUT WE'LL SEE, thanks to everyone reading and responding and kudo'ing <3!!!

_She’s nineteen when they start actually dating. She’s never been in an actual relationship, but she wonders if this is what they’re all like. Later, when she’s older and has some distance, she’ll realize the warning signs for what they were. But at the time, she’s young and inexperienced, and being with Ben is fast and furious and exciting and she never quite feels like she’s got her feet under her. She likes it._

_She’s packing up her gym bag when a pair of arms sneak around her stomach, lifting her back into a body that’s hard with muscle and always burning hot. A little laugh escapes her as her feet go off the floor, as lips are pressed to the side of her neck and she smells his cologne and his post-workout sweat._

_“What are your plans?” He asks, face burrowing into the crook of her neck. Ben’s stubble tickles her skin and makes her nose scrunch._

_Her feet go back to the floor, and she fruitlessly tries to keep packing up her gear. “Home. Shower. Something to eat.”_

_His fingers sneak under her shirt, splaying across her stomach. She smiles at the contact, feeling something warm at the way he touches her so easily. Contact, affectionate contact, is something she has only had with Finn before. And this is definitely of a different nature. She likes it._

_“Come over to my place,” he suggests instead. There’s a little uncertainty in his words, but it’s something that’s been fading the longer they’ve been together. It’s been a little over two weeks, now._

_She snorts, reaching down and zipping her bag up. “I don’t have any clothes at your place.”_

_“You could.”_

That _makes her look over her shoulder. “What?”_

_He’s smiling, but his eyes are set on her in a way that makes her think he might be serious. “There’s plenty of space.”_

_Rey smiles back, trying to diffuse this strange moment as best she can. “Might as well just move in, too.”_

_“If you want.”_

_Her heart speeds up, a little panic hitting her at the thought. Not knowing what to say, and still not entirely sure if he’s joking or not, Rey instead just turns around in his hold. His hands move with her, smoothing up her back. She stares at him for a second, then kisses him. It’s an unrushed, comfortable action-- it hasn’t taken them long to figure out that they just_ fit _one another. By their third date last week, they had fumbled their way into sleeping together. He was a virgin, and Rey’s awkward attempts in high school hardly counted for experience. But they were figuring it out. Quickly._

_A towel smacks the side of her arm._

_“Break it up,” Poe says, walking past them. “C’mon, we got kids that come in here.”_

_Rey pulls back, flushing down to her collar bone. But Ben just sends an angry stare to he back of his childhood...whatever they were._ Friends _didn’t feel quite right. He hugs her tighter, but Rey steps away and his hands drop. She bends down and grabs her bag, throwing the strap over her shoulder._

_“Let’s grab dinner,” she says._

_He looks disappointed, but takes a move back so she can go. “I’ll cook.”_

_“Great, I’ll eat.” Rey leans forward and kisses his cheek. “Call you in a bit, yeah?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_As she leaves, she can’t fight the smile on her face._

_\--_

Rey’s almost impressed that he holds back. Regardless, she feels his stare on her as she hops down from the ring, as Finn and Rose come closer to give her victory hugs.

“Ben’s here,” she whispers, as Finn pulls her into an embrace.

“You’re shitting me,” he says.

“No.”

He exhales, pulling back. “Alright. Let’s get your purse and get the hell out of here.”

“What’s going on?” Rose asks, stare darting from Finn to Rey.

“Ben’s here,” Finn repeats.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.” Her hand rests in the crook of Rey’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

Rey wants nothing more than to run straight for that side door as fast as she can. But. “We need DJ to give us our phones back. And drive us back to Canto.”

Finn scowls. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Rey’s eyes go wide. “Absolutely not-!”

“ _DJ,_ Rey. Not Ben.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely not talking to Ben. Stay put, I’ll be back with our money and a ride.”

“Um,” Rose says, jerking her chin to their right. “No need.”

Sure enough, DJ has come to find them. He smiles at Rey. “Good fight. Decent bets. Win faster next time, what you think?”

Rey still feels him staring at her. She swallows, refusing to look nervous or intimidated. “I’d like my winnings and to go, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Sure, sure.” He licks his thumb, pulling out a wad of bills. He slides through them easily, then takes one of Finn’s hands and slams the money into it.

Finn sends him a skeptical look, before flipping through it himself. As he counts, Rose starts to cut off Rey’s gauze and tape, patching up the rest of her open wounds and offering her a bag of ice that Rey greedily presses to her cheek after shrugging on her hoodie.

Finn’s next words are accusatory. “This is only four thousand.”

DJ doesn’t look that concerned. “That’s right.”

“The fight was for five.”

“Yeah, five. Then 10 percent to me, 10 percent to the house. Makes four.”

That gets Rey’s attention. “ _What_?”

DJ smiles wider than normal, showing more than one gold tooth. “Set you up good, no?” He wiggles his fingers for a reason she doesn’t understand. “Consider me your agent-”

“Hey!” Rose, Rey’s agent slash cutman slash mechanical co-worker, interjects.

“-and that’s how it always goes here. You give the house a cut or…” He makes a clicking noise. “House gives you a cut.”

She flexes her fingers, sore from the match. Rey hates that he’s taking a fifth of her winnings, but she also knows this isn’t her gym. Or amateur leagues. This is a different beast entirely, and it requires that she plays by the rules.

“How much next fight then?” She states.

“What?” Finn asks, just as Rose tightens her grip on Rey’s elbow.

Rey does her best to ignore them, and the spectre of Ben out in the crowd, and keeps her eyes trained on DJ. “If I go again, what do I get?”

DJ stares at her from under his brows. “Depends.”

“Give me my options.”

He trails his thumb over his bottom lip. “Seven, for another one like this.”

“With another 20% take?”

“That’s right. About five and a half take home.”

She does the math. Not even ten grand, between two matches. Rey thinks about the gym, and the auction, and squares her shoulders. “And if it’s not like this?”

“Absolutely not,” Finn interjects. Rose drops her hand from Rey to stand next to him in solidarity.

“Sixty. Twenty percent take.” He sends her a meaningful look. “You’d go in the cage, for that one.”

It’s closer. “And how long until I can go again?”

“A week on the outside.”

“Sign me up for the seven,” she says, if only to placate her corner team who she knows won’t agree to anything more. “Soon as possible.”

DJ dips his chin. “Come with me, then.”

“Where?”

“Locker room. Someone you need to talk to-”

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Comes a snarl that is very, very familiar.

She hears blood rush in her ears, as DJ gives a friendly smile over her shoulder.

“It’s your new friend, Nobody,” he says, slowly spinning her around. “This is Kylo Ren, head promoter.” He keeps his hands on her shoulders, giving them a tap. “Be nice.”

For the first time in over a year, they’re face to face. Rey looks up. She’s disheveled, her sweat-streaked hair is covered with a hood and her cheek is definitely swelling from Mitaka’s lucky hit.

Ben-- _Kylo Ren_ \-- looks down. He’s dressed in a suit that looks expensive, black on black on black. He even has a tie pin, for fuck’s sake. His lips are pressed together tightly, and his nostrils have a slight flare to them. Rey recognizes this expression, one of forced calm to hide his anger. It has only been directed at her once before.

“Nobody’s got promise, hm?” DJ chides, and Rey sincerely hopes he’s ignorant instead of chiding. Because only an idiot wouldn’t be able to sense the clear and volatile tension between them. “Wants another fight next week-”

“No **_._ ** ” He hasn’t looked away from her. The hands at his sides become fists.

The flash of irritation takes over before she can stop it.

“Ben,” she manages, “Don’t make this personal-”

“Get. Your cash,” he says in clipped syllables. “And _go._ ”

“Rey,” Rose whispers, concern heavy. Finn stands to her side, eyes hard and face grim.

But Rey can’t just _go._ Instead she feels her jaw clench, her chin jutting up. “They’re closing the Resistance,” she states. “Or do you not care about that?”

He watches her face, and she doesn’t know what to make of the expression. His eyes seem soft but everything else about him is calmly furious. Unmoving. Something has changed, in the year they’ve been apart. Since she…

“Ben,” she says again, not sure what that’s going to do to convince him but feeling the need to say his name.

With what might be difficulty, he looks away from her to meet DJ’s gaze.

“Bring her here again and you’re dead.”

DJ points to himself in silent shock.  
  
But Ben doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he looks at Rey for one last time. She can see there’s a slight shake to his shoulders.

“You have ten minutes to leave or I’m calling security.”

And before she has a chance to say anything, he’s storming away from her-- physically shoving anyone who might be in his way.

“Oh thank god,” Rose says with a sigh. “That could’ve been so much worse.”

Rey swallows thickly as she watches his back.

“No,” she mutters, “I don’t think so.”

\--

_“You really like him, huh?”_

_Rey lets the cereal spoon droop from her mouth a little bit. “Hm?”_

_Finn sends her a smile from where he sits across their kitchen island. “The boyfriend, scary boyfriend.”_

_“He’s not scary.”_

_“Now I know you like him.”_

_Rey tucks one of her knees up to her chest. Rests her cheek on top of it._

_“I do,” she agrees after a moment of happy contemplation. And it’s the truth. The last week has gone by in a blur of date nights and sleeping over at his place. The guard she had after his strange comments about moving in has dropped a little, replaced by genuine affection for the tall, grumpy person she’s found herself with._

_“I’m happy for you then,” Finn says, setting down his orange juice. “And I’ll try to like him, I guess.”_

_Rey snorts, “Thanks, Finn. Truly.”_

_“He’s kind of old, though.”_

_“Don’t do the age thing.”_

_“Why not? He’s like, what, thirty?”_

_“Twenty-_ nine. _”_

_“Ancient.”_

_“Get out.”_

_“I live here.”_

_“Not in the kitchen, you don’t-”_

_“Rose asked me out.”_

_Rey’s eyes widen. “What kind of segue was that?!”_

_He smiles, and she smiles back. Then she throws her napkin at him._

_“_ Well _?”_

_“Well, what?”_

_“Are you going!”_

_“I don’t know. Is it going to be weird if I do? I know you work together-”_

_“Date her, you idiot.”_

_Finn lets out a forced cough, shuffling one of his slices of toast over the other. “Look at us.”_

_Rey lets out a hum. And then her phone buzzes. She flips it over on the counter, seeing it’s a message from Ben. Swipes._

Ben S: any plans?

going to give me one?

Ben S: i’ll pick you up in 10.

 

_Finn lifts his brows. “In front of my toast?”_

_Rey rolls her eyes, kisses his forehead, and goes to get ready._

\--

After the fight, they see Rose safely home, and then Rey and Finn decide to get well and truly drunk. They go through their liquor cabinet, finding half-full bottles of whatever, and go to town. They drink quickly and sit on the floor of their kitchen. The alcohol hits her fast.

“I should probably fight too, huh?” Finn says between pulls of his vodka.

Rey snorts, drinking an ancient and dusty quarter bottle of tequila that is going to be a _big_ mistake tomorrow. “Because this worked so well.”

“We’re four grand closer than what we were because of you,” Finn says. He taps her glass bottle with his own. “Sorry I was tense. Just, being back there. You know?”

She taps it back. “I know. I’m sorry, too.”

“Thanks.”

They fall into a drinking silence, as Rey scrapes at the label of her bottle between pulls. Finally, Finn lets out _that sigh,_ and she knows what’s coming and wonders if she’s drunk enough to talk about it yet.

“So. Are you okay?”

Rey leans against the cabinet under the sink. Looks at the ceiling tiles. “I don’t know. No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Eventually.” Not looking at him, she swirls her bottle. “Give me two more minutes with this.”

“You got it.” Finn drinks his vodka. “I’m guessing tomorrow is a sweats and Netflix day?”

She gives a genuine smile. “That’d be great.”

“I’ll even call coach for you.”

“You’re my hero.”

“Don’t get sappy on me now.”

With one of her few remaining coherent Adult thoughts, Rey gleefully pulls out her phone to shut off her 5am wake-up alarm. She swipes, and it’s only when she sees a little icon on the top left of her screen that she goes very still.

“What?” Finn mutters, starting to sound a little slurred or tired or both.

Rey shakes her head. And, stupidly-- _so_ stupidly-- she taps her missed text.

_Unknown: Did you get home alright?_

  
She stares. She has no idea how he got this number--she’d changed it two months after they broke up. But she knows it’s from Ben. Because it has to be.

Does she answer? Her tequila-fogged mind tries to process what’s happening, to make a list of pros and cons.

The cons list, she knows, would be _very long.  
_ But the pro is that...maybe he doesn’t hate her.

Before she can think herself out of it, Rey taps the thumb’s up emoji, hits send, then tosses her phone across the kitchen floor like it’s a possessed thing.

Finn grabs it, looks at the screen, then stares at her.

“God damn it, Rey,” he whispers, before taking a long pull of vodka.

She joins him with what’s left of her tequila.

\--

_They’d gone to the park, and at some point Rey had fallen asleep under the warmth of the sun. She wakes up to fingers lightly coming through her hair, and a leg sliding underneath her head for a makeshift pillow. Rey curls up against Ben, letting his motions lull her back to sleep._

_“Rey?” He says quietly._

_“Mm.”_

_“I love you.”_

_Rey blinks awake at the words, looking up at him. “What?”_

_“I love you,” he repeats, sounding more insistent._

_She stares at him for a long time. They’ve only been together a month, and she’s not sure if this is the right time to be saying these sorts of things to one another. She also knows that she feels_ something _for Ben, something strong. But that she doesn’t know how to articulate it. Doesn’t know if saying ‘I love you too’ is lying or not._

_His expression doesn’t give her anything to go off of. No indication of what she should or shouldn’t do. No one, other than Finn, has spoken those words to her._

_When she keeps silent, he tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear._

_“Move in with me,” he doesn’t quite-ask._

_Her heart thuds violently in her chest, part of her thrilled and part of her terrified. “I...isn’t it soon?”_

_“Who cares.”_

_She breathes in. Out. “_ I _care, I think.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I just do.”_

_There’s a hint of frustration in his next statement. “Is it because of me?”_

_Rey shakes her head, and he visibly calms at that._

_“Okay,” he says after a while. “We can wait, then.”_

_He begins to comb through her hair again, and after the adrenaline fades, Rey closes her eyes and is lulled back to sleep._

_-_

_She wakes up to an arm under her knees and another under her shoulders, lifting her. She lets out a startled laugh as Ben carries her, bridal-style, across the park back to his car. And he smiles down at her like she’s the whole universe in his arms._

_\--_

Rey is absolutely going to be sick. Her head is pounding, spinning, and she holds her pillow to her face like she’s grabbing a floatation device for dear life.

Her phone rings, shrill and the worst sound she’s ever heard in her entire fucking existence. The thought crosses her mind to throw it, but then she remembers the screen’s cracked for almost three years and that might actually be the thing that does it.

So she answers it, if only to get it to stop.

“ ‘lo?”

“ _Rey._ ”

Her eyes go wide as she recognizes the voice. “...Ben.”

“ _Where are you?”_

She shouldn’t tell him. She really shouldn’t- “I’m at home.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. So long, she thinks about just hanging up. But then:

_“Let’s talk.”_

“Okay,” she whispers.

_“The park. In an hour. If you can.”_

Rey lets go of a long breath. “...yeah. Alright.”

The line goes dead. And Rey buries her head underneath a pillow.

\--

_A week after he tells her, Rey is under the covers with him. He’s still asleep, and so she folds her arms under her chin and watches him. She listens to him snore, his hair a sprawled out mess over the pillow, and the words slip out from her in a quiet secret that is as easy as air._

_“I think I love you too.”_


	5. baby you were my picket fence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the delay everyone ;; i had some pretty major health problems over the last few months that i'm still in recovery from. hope you like the update! trying to wrap this up in the next week or so <3

_ Her whole body rises. _

_ Rey flips a page in her magazine. _

_ Her whole body drops. _

_ The sun is shining in from one of the big, bay windows of his apartment. She soaks it up like a cat, caught somewhere between total relaxation and actually being asleep.  _

_ Her whole body rises up again. _

_ “How many?” Ben asks with a hard pant. _

_ Rey lays on her back, which conveniently is on top of his back as he does his push-ups. “Um.” _

_ “ _ Rey,”  _ he says in warning. _

_ Her whole body dips down. _

_ “I lost track,” she admits. “Somewhere around a hundred and sixty-” _

_ Before she knows what’s happening, he lets out a growl and rolls onto his side. Rey lets out a surprised yelp at her human recliner suddenly being gone, but her fall to the floor is cushioned by Ben’s big, lumbering body. He presses one his large hands in between her shoulder blades and turns her further, until her back is flat against the floor. He hovers over her, one hand bracing his weight above her head. _

_ She snorts, gaze darting to his with a little mischief. “Am I in trouble?” _

_ “Start counting again,” he orders with an absolute poker face. _

_ She tilts her head. “What?” _

_ “One,” he prompts, moving the hand under her to brace his weight on the other side. He dips down, his lips brushing hers before he lifts himself up again.  _

_ Rey rolls her eyes. “Two.” _

_ He lowers himself to kiss her again. _

_ “Just so you know,” Rey chastises as he continues his routine. “I’m not staying put here for a hundred and something.” _

_ “Good,” he says with the barest hint of a smirk. _

_ The next time they kiss, it’s deep and hot and Ben’s reps are most definitely the furthest thing from either of their minds. _

_ \-- _

  
The bus lurches to a stop, and Rey looks out her window. This time of year, the park is too cold for anyone but the most dedicated runners. Sure enough, in the distance, there’s only a small figure in black on the horizon. He seems unaccompanied, but Rey eyes a black car with heavily tinted windows in the distance with suspicion. 

As she rocks back in her seat when the bus stops, it occurs to her that she doesn’t have to get out. She could just keep her eyes stuck on the back of the seat in front of her, impassively travel home. Keep Ben in the rearview mirror, where she knows he logically belongs.

Rey looks out the window again. Ben is just a small, solitary figure in the snow.

She slides out just before the bus doors close.

As she approaches, the snow crunches under her boots. A dead giveaway to her arrival, not that she was trying to go for stealth. Rey knows the second Ben realizes she’s there, because his back hunches up, then down. He’s wearing a long coat of some kind, an oversized black scarf wrapped around his lower face and shoulders, masking his full expression.

She fidgets for a moment, tugging her cream-colored beanie over her ears, hair flying out from underneath it. There’s a grimace at the motion, the side of her face most definitely swollen from the night before and tender.

After a few minutes of her staring at his back and him trying not to move at all, she knows he isn’t going to initiate. So she does.

A long sigh between her teeth, followed by: “Ben.”

He turns, and she winces at the ‘thunk’ one of his knees makes as he tries to stand too quickly from under the table. Part of her wants to rush forward, but she stalls it in favor of jamming her hands in the pockets of her bomber jacket and tilting her head.

“You alright?”

Ben sends her a look that is so sour, so  _ Ben,  _ that she almost smiles from it. But then she remembers herself, and who he was the night before. Cold and angry and apparently ready to say fuck all to her.

“You look terrible,” he greets in a clipped tone, his eyes on her swollen cheek.

“Thanks,” she replies, her brows disappearing underneath the hem of her beanie. “You too.”

Ben scowls. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know how you meant it.” Rey exhales. Kicks at the snow. “Who gave you my number?”

He straightens his posture, as if to remind her that he can loom and that he is Important now. “Why did you change it?”

“You know why.” She sounds sad, even to her own ears, and she hates it. 

He stiffens, and she sees his leather-gloved hands flexing. But he keeps them at his sides, and for a moment he just watches. His expression is unreadable to her, but focused. She feels his stare crawling over her features, down her neck. 

“Stop,” she commands, sharper than she means. But it doesn’t do either of them any good for him to look at her like that. They both know it. Even if he looks wounded. By her. Again.

And so Rey looks at the ground so she doesn’t have to look at him anymore. “...You wanted to talk?”

“We could go somewhere warmer.”

“Here is fine.”

She can almost hear his teeth grind. “ _ Fine.  _ How do you know about the fights, Rey?”

Rey snorts. Trust Ben to think he has exclusive rights to black market fighting. “I called DJ.”

A long pause, his next words tenser. “You know better than to call DJ.”

Of course she does. “I didn’t have a lot of options.”

Ben’s voice goes soft. “You could have called me.”

The statement is so  _ bizarre  _ that her attention snaps up. And he’s looking at her the way he used to. Eyes round and dark and what the hell does he think he’s trying to pull now? 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You know…” And here, he swallows. It’s his turn to look away. “You know nothing’s changed for me.”

Memories of that night, their last night, come back to her full force. His hand reaching out for hers. His voice letting out a strangled  _ please- _

Rey takes a step away. As if distance will help. Even though it obviously hasn’t.

“The First Order is buying out our gym,” she says when she can say it levelly. Rey meets his eyes and tells herself he doesn’t look like a small dog kicked in the snow. “I would guess in an attempt to get back at Leia. Do you…” she takes a deep breath to keep her voice steady. “Do you honestly think you would’ve intervened?”

He looks angry, then bitter. Like he wants to accuse her of not believing in him, even though they both know about his hangups with the Resistance. “I would’ve helped  _ you _ .”

She bites the inside of her cheek. Her breath comes out in a little puff. “That’s not the same.”

He glares at her, a cold look that lets Rey see the persona he’s adopted at the fights. Kylo Ren. After a moment, he visibly shakes his head and lets out a harsh bark of a laugh.

“Them over me again. Why am I even surprised?”

She’s too hungover and too annoyed to temper herself at that. “You’re the one who keeps making it into a choice! Fucking hell, Ben-”

“Rey-”

“-it’s a fucking  _ gym  _ and-” she slams her eyes shut. Presses the heel of her hand to her throbbing forehead. 

“And I’m being an idiot.” Rey lets out another exhale, a cloud of smoke. She feels not unlike a dragon, about to burn ruins to the ground. “I don’t know why I came to meet you. You clearly don’t want to make an effort to understand me. Or your family. Still.”

He looks panicked. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I’m going home, eating potatoes to get rid of this hangover, and I…” Rey swallows, steeling her nerves to meet his gaze dead-on. “I  _ am  _ going to fight next week.  _ Don’t- _ ” she exhales. “Don’t…” frowns. “Just don’t do anything.”

“We’re not done talking-”

“Have a good day, Ben.”

She pivots, her hideous Lazy-Sunday-Uggs partially soaked from melted snow. And she tries to count her steps as she walks away from him. One, two-

“Don’t go-”

Ben’s hand wraps around her bicep, and she yelps at the pain as his  _ stupid,  _ **_big_ ** hands press against her new stitches. 

“-Fuck!” Ben’s grip drops from her instantly.

She turns around, accusing. “You  _ asshole _ -!”  
  
“I forgot!” He bellows. 

“I don’t care!” She screams back.

He takes a step forward. “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t fought Mitaka in the first place!” 

She’s so pissed off she can barely see straight. So Rey does what feels right and natural in the moment: she bends down, grabs a handful of snow to make a snowball, and throws it at his face.

They both stand in a sort of shocked silence. Rey takes a step back, feeling the tops of her ears burning underneath her beanie as she looks at his chest to avoid his eyes. The snow slides from his face with a little  _ ‘plop’  _ between his boots.

“I trust,” he says very slowly, “that made you feel better.”

She has to fight to keep a little satisfied smirk from gracing her lips. “A little.”

When enough silence passes that she knows he’s not about to blow up, Rey risks a glance. His expression is so soft and hopeful that she’s certain coming here was a mistake. But for different reasons than previously thought.

“I need to go,” she whispers.

“You don’t.”

“I do.” She worries her lip between her teeth, sees Ben’s gaze flicker down for about half a second to her mouth. And Rey counts to two. Then three. There’s so many things she wants to tell him, things she couldn’t tell him before. But here, seeing him, she’s not sure if it’s going to help.

He doesn’t move or look away. His scarf blows in the wind, letting her see that his lips are in a tight line underneath it.

“I’ll. See you,” Rey mutters, hands returning to pockets.

“Will you?” He doesn’t sound optimistic.

She sends him a guilty look, before she starts to walk away. 

This time there’s no dramatic grab of her arm. No yelling her name. There’s just the low whistle of the wind and then what sounds like Ben’s fist connecting with something solid. A tree, maybe. Or the table.

Rey lets out a shaking breath, and tells herself not to look back.

  
\--

_ Three months after he tried to get her to move in, she decides to try it. A little bit. Rey doesn’t tell Ben what she’s doing or why. But she starts leaving more things at his place. Then buying some groceries for his fridge. After a bit, she starts putting plants in his window sill--happy-looking ones, not unlike the collection she has at her own apartment. Her favorite are the daffodils, kept in a simple terracotta pot.  _

_ He waters them. Parts the blinds so they get sunlight. For some reason, that’s what convinces her. She just needs to figure out a way to tell him, to do it so she doesn’t feel vulnerable or foolish. Logically, Rey knows that Ben wants her with him. But there’s still a part of the girl from Niima in her. The girl who didn’t have a place or people to call her own. It also means leaving Finn, which isn’t something she can wrap her mind around yet. _

_ “What is it?” Ben mumbles, the vibration of it rumbling in her ear. _

_ They lay together on his couch, watching some movie that Rey’s half paying attention to, her cheek on his chest. Rey can tell from his voice that he’s half-asleep, content to just lay there as his thumb traces up and down her bicep. _

_ Her eyes rest on the daffodils on the window sill. It’s late, so she can see the darkness of the sky behind them.  _

_ “Just thinking,” she says honestly, shuffling a little to tuck her knees in closer.  _

_ Taking the unspoken cue, Ben reaches over and pulls up the blanket to cover her. She snuggles against him in gratitude and he smiles awkwardly down at her.  _

_ “Anything good?” _

_ Rey bites into her lower lip, considering. She’s comfortable and warm, and Ben’s about to doze off. Maybe this is the right time- _

_ There’s a buzz on the coffee table. Both of them look down to see Ben’s phone vibrating slowly across its surface. _

_ Closer, Rey stretches forward to grab it for him- _

_ -but Ben reaches over her and gets it first, the screen purposefully angled away from her line of sight. She frowns at the strange reaction, and the frown only grows when Ben shifts, making her sit up as he hunches forward to look at the screen. _

_ He sends her a side glance as he answers it, and when he does his voice is different. Deeper. Stranger. “I told you not to call me at this number.” _

_ Rey mouths ‘what’s wrong?’ and Ben only responds with a helpless shrug. He raises a finger, telling her to wait, as he gets up from his sofa and walks to his balcony. The door behind him shuts with a click. _

_ Rey watches him through the blinds he had opened for the daffodils, something not sitting right in her stomach when Ben starts to pace up and down the balcony-- muted yelling coming through the wall but not understandable in the distance he put between them. _

_ Not knowing what else to do, Rey makes herself comfortable on the couch and waits.  
_ _   
_ __ \--

_ She doesn’t remember falling asleep, but the feeling of Ben’s lips against her forehead pulls her awake. _

_ “Let’s go to bed,” he says softly. _

_ Rey blinks. “What was all that?” _

_ The room’s completely dark but from the light on the television. It casts his long face into a half shadow, making his eyes look deeper. “All what?” _

_ She sends him a Look, not appreciating the act. “That call.” She yawns, talks around it: “Sounded serious.” _

_ He slides his arms under her knees and shoulders, the carry a weird habit of his that she secretly likes. Rey allows herself to be picked up, her arms going around his neck. _

_ “Just work.” _

_ That makes her jerk more awake. “Something wrong at the gym?” _

_ Ben swallows. “No. It’s fine.” _

_ Her eyes trail from his neck, to his profile. “You’re sure?” _

_ “Yes.” Ben angles his face to look at her. “Let’s just go to bed. Please.” _

_ Rey’s brows are drawn, but she eventually gives a short nod. He seems to uncoil at that, as though relieved.  _

_ The next morning, she stares at his ceiling. Her hands folded over her stomach and something still not settling right with her. _

_ - _

_...she never does agree to move in with him. _

\--

The phone vibrates against the diner’s formica table. Two pairs of eyes stare at it warily, as though it’s a bomb about to go off.

“I need to change my number again,” Rey manages.

“Maybe we should just move,” Finn agrees.

Her best friend had met her at a greasy spoon about a block from their apartment. They both wore the same haggard expressions of hungover, and a steaming pile of cheesy fries lay in a pile between them. 

In defeat, Rey used the back of one hand to rub at her watery eyes again as the other grabbed a chunk of empty carbs and saturated fat. “Why the hell did I meet him?”

Finn gently grabs the hand rubbing at her face and lowers it, keeping his fingers wrapped around hers in a comforting gesture. “You both got a past.”

A simple statement, but one Rey wants to hear. She smothers the fries in ketchup and inhales. If she could unhinge her jaw for them, she would.

Finn watches with narrowed eyes. “You’re terrifying, you know that?”

She sucks ketchup off the pad of her thumb. “You’re the one who’s had two milkshakes.”

“I’m a growing boy.”

“Your stomach’s full of vodka.”

“Okay, tequila.”

Rey snorts. Then sniffles. “How are we going to fix this?”

He sends her a long look. His next words careful. “Maybe we don’t.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“You know I do. I didn’t want you doing this in the first place.”

“So we just give up?” There’s an edge to her voice. She actually sets down a fry.

He sags back against the diner booth, his hand still on hers. “I don’t know, Rey. Maybe it’s time we let go.” His look is serious. “Of a lot of things.”

She feels her throat working. “This isn’t about Ben.”

“You sure? Because you knew he worked for the First Order.” The hand not holding her trails over his hair. “And then I jog down here to find you crying into a hot cocoa.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Rey. C’mon.”

Her fingers curl against the tabletop. She feels her shoulders tensing, hunching toward her neck. 

“It’s not about him,” she says with a little more force than necessary.

Finn watches her for another moment. Then he squeezes her hand.

“Hey,” he says in a gentle tone. “No matter what comes next, I got you. You know that right?”

Rey nods, turning her hand over in his to squeeze it back. “I know. I got you, too.”

Finn smiles. “Good.” He coughs, forcing a lightness into his tone neither of them feel. “Go on and eat your cholesterol. Before it gets cold.” 

Rey lets go of a watery laugh.

\--

_ “Ass!” She yells, her right shin connecting with the kickshield hard enough for Ben to take a half-step back. _

_ He raises his brows. They’re at a convention center hall that’s been repurposed into a ring, and Ben’s helping her warm up for an amateur fight.  _

_ Rey rolls her eyes. “Not you.” She brings up her left leg, swings it. A loud THWACK echoes throughout the gym. “Some prick who’s messing with Rose.” _

_ Ben doesn’t do his usual grunt of acknowledgement. Unlike Finn, who he’s never quite warmed up to, Ben likes Rose--possibly because she’s impossible not to like. So instead, he sends her a curious look as she does a set of ten, successive roundhouses. _

_ “Why?” _

_ “I told you about how she was opening her own shop?” Ben nods, Rey kicks. “Well she got the money to do it from a loan shark, apparently. Finn co-signed on it.” _

_ “And she can’t pay him back.” _

_ “She  _ can.  _ Except he spiked the interest.” Rey forgoes the facade of doing sets in favor of just kicking the shit out of the shield. “He wants triple the original loan. Bastard.” _

_ “Who is it?” _

_ Rey tries to recall the shark’s name. Blanks. “I dunno. Something with initials. TJ? RJ?” She snarls, shoving her elbow in to the soft give of the leather padding. “Doesn’t matter now.” _

_ Ben gives a soft grunt of agreement, a thoughtful look on his face that she misses. Instead, Rey drops the conversation in favor of focusing on her upcoming match. _

_ - _

_ She wins. At the end, Ben slides under the ropes in order to give her a hard, heavy kiss in front of the crowd--the both of them oblivious to the pale, red-headed man in the back seats. _

\--

“Ass!” Rey growls, ending the eternal ringing of her phone with a violent press of her finger. It’s a week after she met with Ben, and about the tenth time she’s tried to call DJ. No response. 

Which meant no fight. 

“Shit,” she swears, giving her gym duffel a frustrated kick from where it rests at her feet. 

Poe walks over to where she sits on the bench. “Boy problems, Jakku?” They both give winces at the question, and Poe coughs into his hand. “Uh. Why aren’t you warming up?”

Rey shakes her head. “I’m getting blown off.”

Poe sends her a calculating look, before an effortless grin crosses over his face. He ruffles her hair. “Go take it out on the bag, then.” He looks at her under his brows. “We got our second to last big team tournament this weekend, and I’m not getting second, got it?”

Rey offers a weak smile. “Got it.”

Poe gives her a light  _ whack  _ on the side with the pool noodle he uses for training, before he walks toward the heavy bag room. Rey sags in her seat, her eyes trained on her phone screen.

18 unread texts from an unknown number. Nine missed calls. On the preview, Rey can see that the latest message reads  _ Call me. Now. _

Rey’s thumb hovers over the delete button, before she sighs and just turns off her phone instead.

\--

_ She’s about halfway done mixing up some coconut pancake batter when there’s a knock on the door. Rey frowns, looking up from her cooking experiment toward the threshold of Ben’s apartment.  _

_ The knocking sounds again, more insistent this time. Slowly, Rey sets down the mixer and tries to push her hair back with the heel of her hand. It results in a smudge of batter across her cheek.  _

_ Her bare feet pad across the floor, and she answers the door without thinking about it. Ben’s just left to get bacon, after all. _

_ “Forget your wallet-?” _

_ But it’s not Ben on the other side. It’s someone Rey’s never seen before, with pale skin, oiled back hair, and watery, red-rimmed eyes. He strides past her into the apartment, looking around with an expression that makes Rey think he was expecting more coasters. _

_ “Where’s Ren?” _

_ Rey tilts her head in confusion. “Ben?” _

_ The stranger turns, eyes immediately honing in on the smudge on her cheek. He then sends her a dismissive look. “Ah, the girl.” _

_ “ _ Rey,  _ actually.” She frowns. “And what are you doing here?” _

_ “Rey,” the man rolls around on his tongue. It makes her feel like she’s been taxonimized, her entire person put into a tidy little box in this man’s mind. He takes in her attire -- a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. No shoes or socks. “Seems you two are more...domesticated, than expected _ . _ ” _

_ “What-?” _

_ “Tell Ren,” he cuts her off, as though she couldn’t possibly have anything of note to say. “That he missed an important conference call this morning.” Once again, he sends her that assessing stare she doesn’t like. “I assume in favor of  _ your  _ company.” _

_ She crosses her arms. “Who even are you?” _

_ “Armitage,” he says, clipped. “Have him contact me. Immediately.” _

_ And before Rey can do anything, he’s gone as quickly as he came in. She slams the door quickly behind him, fastening the extra chain. _

_ \-- _

_ A pancake is mid-air when the door opens. Rey startles, missing the catch with her skillet. The pancake flops on the stove top as Rey sees Ben’s face--the chain drawing a line across the bridge of his nose. _

_ She exhales in relief, not realizing that she had tensed. Quickly, she flops the food onto a plate with the spatula and turns off the burner.  _

_ “Trying to lock me out?” Ben asks as Rey slides the chain out. The door opens, and he steps in--single grocery bag in hand. _

_ Rey rubs her shoulders, as though cold. “No. Just...someone was here.”  _

_ The happy expression on Ben’s face falls away. “What?” _

_ She looks up at him, bemusement evident in her tone. “He came because you missed a call? Or something-?” _

_ “Who.” _

_ Rey tries to remember his name- _

_ “What did he look like?” There’s a growing edge, a panic, in Ben’s voice. She doesn’t like it. _

_ “Is something wrong-?” _

_ “What did he look like, Rey?” _

_ She takes a half-step back. “Um. Pale. Red hair-” _

_ “And you let him in?!” _

_ “He let himself in!”  _

_ Ben drops the bag, running a hand through his hair and visibly biting back anger. Rey crosses her arms over her chest, eying him warily. There’s a vein sticking out on his neck, his nostrils are flared. He’s more than upset. He’s furious. _

_ “Ben?” _

_ “Don’t leave,” he commands. “I’ll be right back.” _

_ “Hey-!” _

_ The door slams as he storms out. And Rey is left in an empty apartment, wondering what the hell has just happened. _

_ \-- _

Her ringtone goes off.

She has no idea what time it is, but her fingers stretch out stupidly to the nightstand on her bed. Rey is half asleep until she sees DJ’s number on the screen, and then she’s instantly awake-- heart pounding in her throat. 

“Finally,” she grumbles, grabbing the phone and swiping it with the pad of her thumb. “What took you so long-?”

_ “I have a fight for you. Same place and time this Friday."   _ The call goes dead. 

Rey’s eyes go wide. Because the person on the phone hadn’t been DJ. 

She cards her fingers through her sleep-mussed hair, and brings her knees to her chest.

“...What the hell, Ben?” She murmurs into the emptiness of her room.


	6. wishful thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first and foremost, **please mind the new warning tags on the fic.** There is an attempted kidnapping/assault (non-sexual) on Rey in this chapter that I imagine could be triggering for some folks. 
> 
> there's also fight scenes in this chapter-- canon-typical level (in fact, both fight scenes are lifted/translated directly from TFA and TLJ), but that could be upsetting to readers. 
> 
> _also, yes it's a semi-open ending_. i know that might not be everyone's bag, but it Felt Right, so I'm sticking by it.
> 
> \--
> 
> That said, WE'RE DONE!! this fic is dedicated to the wonderful V, thanks for being so patient with your gift fic <3

Idiot. She’s an idiot.

She paces the hall of her apartment building, gym bag over her shoulder and hoodie over her head. A glance at her cracked cellphone tells her it’s 9:30. She’d have to leave soon if she was going to catch the bus to Canto. If she was going to fight in the match Ben had set up for her at all.

Or was it Ben. Maybe it was Kylo Ren, working in the First Order’s interests to stop her circuit before it could really get traction. Stop her from buying back the gym owned by people he hated.

Instantly, she dismisses the thought, knowing it’s uncharitable. Despite everything, she still has some fledgling confidence that he would look out for her. Even though logic points the opposite direction.

The word ‘unconditional’ comes to mind and Rey swears. It’s 9:32.

Finn’s at Rose’s place tonight. She should text him, tell him about the fight. She can’t go without a trainer or a cutman, after all.

But Finn would tell her no. Which he was perfectly right to do. But.

She grabs the gym bag’s strap tightly.

9:33.

“Fuck,” she whispers, before she jogs to the elevator and presses the down button.

\--

_“Rey!”_

_She barely has her keys out of the door before Finn has his arms wrapped around her shoulders. He squeezes, lifts her feet off the ground, and swings her in a half circle._

_“What? What’s happened? Are you alright-”_

_“Rose got an investor!”_

_She blinks, pulling back slightly once her shoes touch the floor again. “Wait, why? How?”_

_“No idea! But she can pay off the garage now-”_

_A part of her is skeptical. Because good things don’t happen to people like her and Finn. But the miraculous intervention is also something that’s impossible to not be happy at. So she lets out a strange sound between a laugh and a scream, and kisses Finn’s cheek before smashing him to her in a hug._

_-_

_Things between her and Ben have been tense ever since he had that visitor, but that night at dinner, Rey shoves green beans into her mouth and excitedly rambles on about Rose’s plans for the garage without her usual caginess._

_Ben doesn’t say anything, just listens and smiles a little between pulls of his beer._

_\--_

She’s halfway surprised that it’s DJ, not Ben, who is there at the pick-up point. His shitty VW rattles behind him, and when he looks up at her arrival he seems less...swarmy, than usual.

“Should’ve said you were the girl,” he says nonchalantly, bunching his shoulders so the fur lining of his coat is brought higher.

Rey frowns at that. “I’m not the girl.”

“Ren’s girl,” he enunciates carefully.

Anger spikes in her chest at the title. “I’m _not,_ ” she emphasizes, “Ren’s girl. We’ve been done for a while now.”

DJ sends her a look she doesn’t like. But then he shrugs, grabbing the passenger door and propping it open. When she doesn’t move, he rolls his eyes and makes a Vanna White gesture with his arm.

“Chop chop, Nobody.”

Rey tilts her head. “You don’t want my phone?”

DJ snorts. “No need for that.” He smiles, and she counts at least three gold teeth. “We’re family now.”

The sentence turns her stomach into knots. But Rey is resolved, and so slides into the empty seat.

\--

_The banging on her door is so loud that it makes Rey wake up with a start, pure adrenaline flowing through her and her pulse thudding in her ears. Quickly, she grabs the aluminum bat she keeps by her bed, rolling out from under the covers and stalking toward the entryway._

_Finn comes out from his room at almost the same time, a bat also in his hand. The pair had reached a unanimous roommate agreement not to have guns in the apartment, but this wasn’t the best neighborhood._

_“Who the hell is that?” Finn mutters, clearly still sleepy but alert._

_Rey frowns, not having an answer. Finn reads her expression, and his face takes on a grim look._

_“What do you want?” He yells._

_There’s a muffled voice on the other side. She can’t make out the words, but she’d know that familiar deep, rumbling sound anywhere._

_“Shit,” she swears as she drops the bat to the ground with a tinny noise. “That’s Ben.”_

_She hears Finn go “What the fuck, Rey?” to her back, but Rey doesn’t acknowledge it. Her fingers make quick work of their lock, their deadbolt, and their chainlink._

_“What are you doing here-?” She starts, but her words drop off when she takes in the sight in front of her._

_Ben is in his usual, black athletic gear. But he’s leaning in a way that lets her know he’s hurt, a hand clenching his opposite side. His lip is split and pale._

_“Rey,” he says her name like an exhale. Then, bleeding all over her welcome mat, asks: “Can I come in?”_

_Unwillingly, her mind returns to the night they first met. The mysterious concussion he never provided a story for, the bruised ribs, and the 65 stitches. She turns around, grabbing her ratty bomber jacket._

_“I’m taking you to the hospital-”_

_“No_.”

 _She glares, angry. “No?” She echoes in a_ try it _sort of tone._

_His eyes meet hers, wide and somehow vulnerable. “Can’t go there. Please, Rey. Just. Let me sleep it off here.”_

_At this point, Finn’s materialized at her shoulder. “The hell’s wrong with you, man?”_

_Ben ignores him. “Rey.”_

_She looks at him, then at Finn who is distinctly Not Happy._

_“You really ought to go to the hospital-”_

_Before she can finish her sentence, Ben slumps down to a knee. Then the other. And before Rey can react, over two hundred pounds of rock-heavy deadweight collapses on top of her._

_\--_

When she walks into the warehouse, she’s immediately thrown by how different the atmosphere is tonight. While still as loud, still as full of people exchanging money and cigars and drinks, that loudness has a definite edge to it tonight.

People are pissed.

Rey stops in her tracks, reaching out to tug on the sleeve of DJ’s ridiculous coat. “What’s going on?”

He doesn’t turn around, instead shooting her a lazy stare over the shoulder. “Not your problem.”

She juts her chin out. “I’m aware of that, thanks.”

The lazy glance he has does an almost imperceptible flicker up and down her body. “Cage’s cancelled for tonight, no big fight.” He shrugs, “Not much to do there.”

Rey bites down on her lower lip. “Why was it cancelled?”

DJ meets her eyes dead on. “Main promoter was more concerned about the ring,” and, as if it’s not obvious enough: “For some reason.”

She decides to just spell it out. “My fight, you mean.”

He raises his hands. “Still think I could’ve set you up good, myself. Now I only get 5 percent.” He clicks his cheek against his teeth. “Pity.”

Rey’s heart is pounding. Partly in anger at Ben-- because he thinks he gets to control what she does, where she goes, who she fights. He knows better. He _has_ to know better, after that night in the alleyway.

But partly in adrenaline-fueled anticipation. Because _fuck that._ Fuck the leash Ben thinks he gets to keep on her.

“How much?” She breathes.

This gets DJ to do a full pivot. “Hm?”

She’s going rogue. “If I go in the cage.”

His expression stays the same, but Rey catches the flicker of interest. “Would need an opponent.”

Rey meets his gaze. “I’m sure you could manage.”

DJ smiles, that slick little smile that reminds Rey he almost cheated her loved ones out of their livelihoods. But, tonight, his brand of mischief is on her side. “What’d I promise you before?”

“Eighty,” she lies.

The smile grows, as though he can catch her in the gamble but decides not to. “Eighty-five, then.”

“How much of a cut?” She learned her lesson there, last time.

DJ looks far too innocent. “Thirty percent.”

“It was twenty last time.”

“Your boyfriend might actually kill me.” He _boops_ the tip of her nose with a ringed finger. “I’ll need the security.”

Rey chokes back the _he’s not my boyfriend,_ instead quickly running through the maths in her head. He’s trying to short her, likely in an attempt to set her up for yet another fight. So Rey tries her luck. “Ninety.”

DJ chuckles. “I like you.”

Rey doesn’t feel the same, so she says nothing.

He purses his lips, making a show of considering. “Let’s see what the bets look like. Maybe I get you a bonus, hm?”

It will have to do. Rey gives a short dip of her chin.

“Deal.”

\--

 _He snarls something that sounds like “Fuck!”, but Rey doesn’t look up from her task. The cut is long, from his shoulder down to almost his elbow. And there’s absolutely no way he’s avoiding a scar, because his stubborn ass refused to go to the hospital and she was just_ tired _this time._

_Ben was too tall to sit on the sink or toilet for the right access point, so Rey has him in the tub--insanely long legs braced against a wall of it._

_“You get what you paid for,” she mutters under her breath, still angry beyond belief. But it’s a different kind of anger now, the kind that simmers as she tries to focus on the job. Her stitches aren’t pretty._

_He has nothing to say to that, but out of the corner of her eye, Rey sees his lips press together until they look near bloodless._

_It’s been about two hours since her boyfriend collapsed on her. Finn had run for their neighbor-- Miss Kalonia--who was allegedly a retired surgeon. Allegedly, because no actual retired surgeon would live in a dive like this. Still, she was able to check vitals, tell Rey and Finn what to do. Then she had scowled at them, told the pair to never wake her up again, and returned to her apartment._

_Finn had retreated to their living room as soon as Ben started to rouse. Pretending to read a book, but Rey knows what he’s actually doing. Watching out for her--like always._

_It bothered her that the person Finn was watching was Ben._

_“What happened? She finally asks, after tying the knot of the thread correct after five or six failed attempts._

_“Rey,” he says, like that’s the beginning and end of their conversation._

_She looks up at him, only to realize he’s been staring at her the whole time. “I’m serious, Ben.”_

_“I can’t tell you.”_

_“But you can show up at my apartment at two in the morning? Bleeding in the hall?” And damn, she’s upset. More upset than she’d thought she’d be-- because he’s alright. She helped him. And she’s the last one to cast stones about mysterious injuries and needing botched stitches._

_But it’s not just about tonight, is it? It’s about the strange visitor with the red hair. It’s about the fact that this might be a pattern._

_He’s lying to her. Maybe that’s the worst part about all of it._

_“Where would you prefer I go?” He snaps back._

_And isn’t he ridiculous. Wearing blood-soaked track pants while sitting in her tub like an angry toddler. Rey sags into a seat on the toilet. Then she grabs a couple gauze pads and Neosporin and starts the process of cleaning and bandaging._

_“That’s not fair,” she finally says._

_“...I know.” He watches her careful fingers as they clean away the crusted blood. “I’m sorry.”_

_She tosses her latex gloves and dirtied gauze into the waste bin. “Up,” she whispers, grabbing a bandage roll. If nothing else, an apartment of competition fighters is guaranteed to have a good first aid supply._

_He obeys with only a slight wince, lifting his arm enough for Rey to roll around it._

_She gathers enough nerve on the fourth rotation. “Is this going to happen again?”_

_A long silence. Rey tapes up the wound before she feels her shoulders slump in exhaustion and disappointment._

_A large hand cups her face. She looks up._

_Ben seems like he’s trying not to lose something._

_“I love you,” he says, words slightly strained._

_His hand smells of antiseptic and iron. “I love you, too.”_

_But they both know that’s not an answer to her question. And the quiet they sit in is oppressive. Rey’s thoughts go back to Niima, to Unkar’s circle. To patching Finn up like this after he came back from jobs with the First Order. She’s not an idiot. She knows what it means when someone stumbles in at 2am and can’t go to a hospital._

_“Don’t leave,” he begs._

_He’s not talking about just tonight._

_She leans over, and kisses him lightly._

_Turns out she can’t give answers, either._

\--

“What the hell are you doing?”

Rey tries to keep her shoulders from tensing, knowing every line of her body is obvious in her fighting gear. But they do. Somehow, she manages to keep her hands steady as she awkwardly tries to wrap her left hand with gauze.

“Saving the Resistance.” She tears through the strip with her teeth.

Ben-- _Kylo_ \--grabs her arm and half-turns her. So she has to look at him-- at his livid expression with flared nostrils and a clenched jaw.

“I set you up with a fight,” he snarls.

She tilts her chin up. “And I decided to go with a different one.”

“ _Why_?”

“It pays more,” she says coolly. “You know how that goes.”

He flinches, and for a moment she feels terrible. But not terrible enough to let him put her in the corner he wants her in. Not anymore.

“You don’t know what the fights are like here,” he says, tone flat in a way that’s terrifying.

“I know it’s not your decision.”

“Fuck that.” He finally lets go of her arm in order to run the hand through his hair. “Why did you have to come here, Rey?”

“We needed the money.”

“It’s. A. _Gym_.”

“You know it’s not just that,” and damn it, her voice is starting to break. Just a little. It’s not about Ben. It’s about the gym. It’s about… “I don’t leave things-” people. “-behind.”

He stares down at her, and while the anger doesn’t leave his expression, it does give way to something else. Barely. For just a second.

“I asked you to come with me,” he whispers, and damn if that doesn’t hurt.

“You knew I couldn’t.” She bites down on her lower lip, finishes taping her hand. “You _knew_ , Ben.”

“What do you want from me?” The question is caught somewhere between frustration and grief.

Rey has to say the words. Because what they have between them isn’t clean. It’s brittle and ragged and someone has to walk away or they’ll keep hurting each other whenever there’s a point of friction.

She inhales. “Move. And then I’ll go.” _And won’t come back_ hangs in the air, unspoken but understood.

Ben only stares at her, frozen. And so Rey does the moving. Gingerly, she sidesteps around him and goes toward the entrance of the cage. At seeing the movement, the angry crowd begins to mutter among itself. Then chatter. Then cheer.

Rey ignores them. She needs to clear her head. She needs to focus.

DJ gives a little bow as the chainlink swings close behind her. She wants to be sick. He only smiles, and takes her corner-- her cutman for the night.

“We have a volunteer!” Cries out Kyp Durron’s amplified voice from somewhere outside the octagon cage. Rey doesn’t bother to try and find him. “Any challengers? The purse is at a whopping NINETY THOUSAND DOLLARS!”

The crowd erupts. DJ pinches her cheek. Rey’s doesn’t care. She just wants this over and done with. Just wants to win. Just wants to leave.

“Anyone?” Kyp prompts again.

There’s some yelling. Rey stares at a spot at the floor in front of her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, looks like we might have an opponent!”

The chained fence rattles. Rey tilts her head up.

Ben steps through the entrance. His face is expressionless, but his eyes don’t break from hers as he closes the gate behind him.

Rey’s lips part.

He takes off one of his dress shoes. Then the other. Then socks. Mechanically, he undoes the clasp to his Rolex and slides the watch off into his palm. He tosses it into a corner of the octagon.

“What are you doing?” She demands as it dawns on her what this means.

Ben only brings a hand up to his throat, loosening then discarding his tie. Followed by his vest.

“And, wow! A special treat here tonight!” Kyp’s voice is a tinny thing in the distance. Everything is muted and silent except for the man in front of her. “Kylo Ren-- out of retirement!”

The crowd starts screaming.

He undoes the buttons at his cuffs. Then down his chest.

“ _Why_?” She manages, as he takes off his dress shirt and folds it neatly before placing it on the ground.

Ben rolls his shoulders, and enters into a stance she knows all too well.

“Because I’m not moving.”

She stares at him in disbelief.

A bell sounds.

\--

_There’s been strange customers at the garage._

_Normally, this wouldn’t be out of the ordinary-- Rose’s place is in the diviest part of the city, and no one in Takodana is a stranger to the gangs or organized criminals that constantly fight over certain blocks. And as a new, local business they quite frankly can’t afford to turn anyone away._

_But she’s been more..._ aware _since the night Ben came to her apartment. And because of that, she notices things she never did before. Like the green SUV that’s always parked across the street from their drive-up entrance. Or that there’s always an unneeded but requested oil change scheduled during her shift where someone pays her only in cash. That other regulars, ones she knows and likes, have started sending her strange looks and being overly polite._

_Like they’re scared._

_She starts packing up to walk home after she finishes a VW engine repair, her eyes not leaving that strange SUV. She’s scouring her hands with degreaser when she hears footsteps approaching._

_“We’re closed,” she states, trying not to tense her shoulders._

_The footsteps come closer. Rey’s eyes dart up to the shelf above the sink, where a few wrenches hang. Her arms tense as the person comes closer, and she reaches up to grab one-_

_“I know,” Ben’s voice cuts in. “Thought I’d walk you home.”_

_Her whole body sags as adrenaline leaves it. Rey turns around, a frown still on her face and wrench in her hand. “What are you doing here?”_

_He scowls. “Am I not supposed to be?”_

_There’s a tension in that question. Because Rey_ has _been pulling back since that night, wary. And Ben’s noticed._

_“Stop looking at me like that,” he says softly._

_She can’t turn it off. Rey’s spent her entire childhood needing it to survive. But she tries. She tries to smile._

_Ben only keeps watching her, and he steps forward and gently pries the wrench from her fingers._

_“I’m not…” he doesn’t seem to know how to answer that sentence. Because he just shakes his head and places the wrench down on the counter._

_And something about that hurts her. So Rey tries again._

_She grabs his hand, their fingers interlacing. The false smile drops from her features._

_“Let’s go,” she offers._

_He looks at her with pure relief, kissing the crown of her head._

_When they leave Rose’s, Rey notices that Ben stares down the SUV. It sputters to a start, and drives away._

_\--_

Neither of them move. The crowd’s screams escalate. Someone throws a beer bottle at the fence. Ben only has to look in its direction for Rey to see a security guard sock someone in the stomach and drag the heckler away.

“Well?” Ben says, voice deep in the way it gets when he’s trying to hide something.

“You can’t be serious."

He doesn’t look away from her. But his weight shifts to his toes, elbows tuck into his sides. The only protection they’re allowed is basic hand wrappings, and he doesn’t even have that.

“We’re not doing this,” Rey insists.

“Afraid?” He prompts, expression still carefully blank.

She rolls her eyes at the thin attempt to goad her. Ben’s expression stays flat, neutral. But his eyes are burning, their darkness reflecting the orange and dirty lights of the warehouse.

“You’re going to have to make a decision,” he says, not dropping his stance. “It’s either fight me or walk away, Rey. I guarantee you no one will set you up with another match.”

Because he damn near owns this place, she fills in. Rey recognizes the situation, but still, she hesitates.

“Pick them over me one more time.” His eyes flash. “Shouldn’t be a hard decision for you.”

Rey glares. And, Force, maybe she does just want to punch the shit out of him for a minute or two. That’s how they always used to resolve things, back in the day. Get on either side of a heavy bag and kick. Punch. Yell, if they needed to.

This doesn’t have to be any different than a spar. They’ve spared before.

She takes a ragged breath, rolls her shoulders, and tucks her elbows in.

“Fine,” she mutters to herself, “Be that way.”

With a final exhale, she moves. Her left arm comes up in a swift uppercut, and Ben barely has enough time to bend back. The air from her still-flying fist making his hair sway.

Rey drops her fist, takes a half step back.

Ben stares at her, caught somewhere between awe and shock. Finally, he swallows, and begins to move in kind.

The fight starts.

\--

 _They end up at his place. And almost immediately, he’s kissing her with a deep-seated desperation that she doesn’t want to think about. She doesn’t want to think about_ anything _\-- not her unease about the night he bled in her tub, not the strange SUV, not that gnawing anxiety in her chest that’s telling her to skip town and not look back. She only wants to think about what is real in the moment, what she can touch. Who she loves, despite all the parts starting to draw in toward the center._

_So she kisses him back with just as much desperation, just as much fear and worry._

_A few hours later finds her waking up in his bed. His arm is wrapped around her middle, his chin on her shoulder. His breathing is even and his body is warm. Protective. Loving._

_Rey closes her eyes, and tries to tell herself that this moment, this feeling isn’t one that can end._

_“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he grumbles into the back of her neck._

_She unknowingly curls tighter into herself. “Is it Kanjiklub?”_

_His body tenses. “Rey, don’t.”_

_“The Guavians?”_

_He pulls slightly away from her, so he can lie on his back and swear softly at the ceiling._

_Not the small time gangs, then. The ones who only do petty crimes like smuggling and occasional gambling rings. Rey stares at the far wall, where a row of potted flowers are meticulously arranged on an otherwise empty shelf above his desk. That had been her idea. She thought he needed something with color in here._

_She steels herself. Because the next ones aren’t so petty. “Black Suns?”_

_“Drop it,” he bites out, sounding genuinely angry._

_The last two she thinks of makes her stomach tie into knots. She tries with the lesser of the evils, first. The one who’s not trying to actively ruin their neighborhood. That never ransacked Leia’s apartment or burned down Luke’s house to the ground because they refused to pay dues. The ones that didn’t try to jump Poe in the alley after he failed to throw a match. The ones that didn’t almost kill Finn before he barely managed to get out._

_“Please tell me it’s the Crimson Tide,” she whispers, already knowing it’s not._

_His silence is damning. And slowly, mechanically, Rey sits up. The sheets drop down to pool at her waist. After a moment, she exhales and begins to pull on a shirt._

_“What are you doing?” He asks, panic leaking into his voice when he realizes that she’s getting out of bed, that she’s getting dressed._

_Rey can’t answer him. She feels cold, numbed. Her shorts are shrugged on with pure muscle memory as she tries to ignore the feeling of bile in her stomach._

_She hears him shift behind her. “It’s not what you think-”_

_His arms wrap gently around her shoulders. Rey sits ramrod straight in his embrace. “Please,” he mutters, “Just stay. I’ll…” he exhales. “I’ll talk about it tomorrow.”_

_No he won’t. He’s had almost a year to talk about it. Another day isn’t going to matter._

_“I want to go home,” she says flatly._

_“Rey-”_

_“Now.”_

_Rey stands up, and his arms fall uselessly away from her._

_\--_

Rey lets out a short cry as she jabs for the left side of his head. He slips, pivoting in time to block the next two hooks she aims at his right side, then his left, with the shield of his crossed forearms. She digs her heel in, using her forward momentum to drive a roundhouse into his right side. He weaves, taking two, quick steps to the left.

Rey growls in frustration, bringing her leg down and pushing her left arm out in a straight jab. Ben reacts faster than she would have given him credit for, his longer reach aiming for her side in a cross-punch that forces her to drop her strike and back away.

He throws another cross-punch, aiming for her head. She slips, then slips again as he crosses with his other fist. As an outfighter, Ben has always specialized in heavy _heavy_ hits. Rey needs to refocus her strategy, switch to evasion. Because if he lands a punch or a kick it is going to _hurt._

He brings up his left leg in a forward kick, and Rey shoves it down with the flat of her forearm. Ben doesn’t hesitate, as he throws 1-2 combos straight at her head and shoulders. Jab, cross, jab, cross. Rey brings her fists up to her face, using them and her forearms to deflect as best she can. The brute force of his swings makes her backup, getting closer and closer to being pinned against the fence and becoming a sitting duck.

That won’t do.

Rey decides to use her speed to her advantage, diving down in a quick roll and moving in a display of footwork that would make Luke proud. Before Ben can turn fully around, she’s maneuvered them back to the center of the cage.

Ben snarls, bringing his elbow down to hit her in the side. She dodges, dodges again. He hits hard but slow--much slower than she can move. He knows it too, if the more frustrated kiaii escaping his mouth is any indication.

He jabs at the same time she crosses, both of their fists connecting with each other’s sides. Rey lets out a short gasp simultaneous with Ben’s grunt, and the two of them break away for a split second before they’re back to combinations again.

She aims a knee strike for his stomach, he shoves it down with his hands. It makes her stumble a bit, and she barely has time to block his next punch. Doesn’t, in fact, fully block it. His knuckles connect with the side of her forearm and she clenches her teeth at the pain of contact.

He brings his leg up, does another forward kick. She stumbles, trying to both block and regain her balance as he offers strike after strike. She nearly falls down, thankfully getting a foot under her before she hits the floor.

Rey _can’t lose._

Pushing past the pain and the sweat starting to sting her eyes, Rey’s forces her burning arms into better blocks. She pushes him back with a front kick, and for a moment they both need to catch their breath. The pause lets them look at each other. Ben’s hair is plastered to his face, falling over his forehead in messy strands. His eyes are wide and he’s breathing through parted lips, shoulders heaving.

She’s tiring him out.

But she’s no better. Her arms are bright red from contact hits, her head swimming.

Ben shakes his head before he goes on the offensive once again-- a grapple this time. Neither of them are great at grappling, but Rey manages to bring her arms up just in time to stop his from throwing her to the floor.

They stand there for a moment, at an impasse as he bears down on her and she tries to hold her ground against his weight. In their stance, her eyes meet his.

“This is _over_ ,” he growls, sweat shining on his face. “I taught you this grip.”

Rey blinks, knowing he’s right. For a brief, foolish second, she closes her eyes-- tries to think of another way to break from this standstill.

He presses down on her. She lets her mind clear.

Rey opens her eyes, and lets out a short cry before she moves.

\--

_He doesn’t say a word to her as he drives her back to her apartment. Rey doesn’t look at him, keeping her attention focused on the lights as they go by._

_“It isn’t what you think it is,” he reiterates._

_“Who owns that SUV?” She asks in return, not looking away from the window. “The one that’s always by Rose’s?”_

_He’s quiet._

_“How long has it been there?” Rey whispers._

_Ben’s still silent, but she hears the stretch of leather as his fingers tighten against the wheel. She supposes that’s her answer, then._

_The car pulls into a slow stall in front of her building. Rey rests her forehead against the chilly glass. There’s the sound of the transmission shifting, the engine going dead._

_“It was to protect you,” he finally says, and Rey hears the thickness in his voice. It makes her close her eyes, hot water starting to brim in them. “It’s...it’s bad right now."_

_“Why them?” She demands. “Of everyone, why the First-”_

_His voice has an edge she’s never heard from him before. “I have my reasons.” A frustrated exhale. “Can you please look at me?”_

_Rey doesn’t want to. Looking means breaking. But she shifts in her seat, reddened eyes meeting dark ones._

_“Fuck,” he says under his breath, when he sees the physical evidence of what she’s thinking. Of what she might walk away from._

_“Rey...I.” He runs his hands through his hair again. “It’s going to be bad. For a little bit. But after that…” Ben meets her eyes and she doesn’t know what she sees in them. Anger, maybe. Desperation. “It’s going to be different.”_

_Rey closes her eyes, realizing what he’s telling her. “Ben, what are you going to do?”_

_He hesitates, wary. But then he reaches across the seats and gently rests his hand against the side of her neck, thumb brushing tears away from the plane of her cheek._

_“Just wait. Please.”_

_She sniffles, opening her eyes and fumbling with the clasp of her seatbelt._

_“Rey.”_

_She shrugs out of it, grabbing the door._

_“Rey-!”_

_And she takes a shaking inhale as she forces herself to climb the outside railing of her apartment fire escape. Not looking, not turning around when she hears a door slam and her name called out once more._

_Like she used to do when she was a teenager, she crawls in through the window of her apartment, locks it behind her, and sits for the rest of the night with her knees drawn into her chest._

_\--_

She breaks the hold through sheer force of will, moving more aggressively than she ever has in a fight. Rey brings up her right leg, then her left, and Ben barely has time to block them before he’s being shoved back.

It’s like three years of frustration, of anger, of being in pain are suddenly burning their way out of her. That they need an outlet, and that outlet might as well be the source of it. She bares her teeth, kicking and punching and striking in a flurry of movements. The back of her mind registers his soft grunts, of the wind being knocked out of him, but she presses forward. She _needs_ this. She needs to-

She needs to feel like she can _win_ something. She needs to defend herself and her people.

She needs Ben to understand how much he’s hurt her, too.

Ben staggers to a knee as one of her roundhouses connects, his back slams against the fence in a rattle that silences the entire warehouse.

Rey’s not thinking, she’s only moving. Everything is instinct, is anger. She punches him on the right side of his arm. He lets out a cry.

Rey sees an opening. And she brings her right fist back, using all of the power of her core to connect an uppercut to the underside of Ben’s chin.

His head snaps back, his body sags down the fence before collapsing in an ungraceful heap.

Rey prowls over him, chest heaving hard. He stares up at her, blood streaming down his face.

All it would take is another hit, and he’d be down. The match would be over. Just one more strike.

He stares up at her, saying the words out of a clenched jaw. “Do it.”

Rey looks down at him. Open and vulnerable and willing to go into the cage just to make sure she doesn’t face anyone else.

Rey takes a step forward. He tenses, bracing for that final connection. She raises her arm-

-and slumps to her knees in front of him.

“What are you doing?” He demands. “Finish the fight!”

Her eyes are burning. Her head is bowed down as her arms go limply to her sides, knuckles brushing the floor.

With a shaking motion, Rey flattens her battered left hand, extending the fingers out as far as they can go.

And then she thuds them against the mat. Once, twice: it’s the universal signal for not being able to push through, for being at the threshold of pain. It means the fighter can’t defend themselves anymore.

Rey taps out.

\--

_Two days after he drops her off, it happens._

_The night feels like any other night. Rey’s a little buzzed, having had a beer at Maz’s, and walking the short distance between the dive bar and her dive apartment. Normally, she doesn’t make a habit of drinking and walking home alone, but it’s been a bad week. A really terrible, awful week._

_And maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s that she’s preoccupied trying not to fall into a well of depression, but she doesn’t notice the black car pull out of the parking lot and slowly start to follow her. That it doesn’t turn on its headlights._

_Rey’s scrolling through her phone, rereading the approximate 100 texts Ben’s sent her, and knowing better than to make a show of how distracted she is, when a hand grabs her shoulder from behind._

_She’s taken self-defense classes at the Resistance--hell, she’s_ taught _self-defense classes--so her reaction is instinctual and effective._

_In the movies, the person being attacked grabs their arm, flips them over the shoulder. But this isn’t the movies, and so Rey instead drops her cellphone, lowers her head, and runs forward._

_She hears her shirt rip at the collar, but that’s a small price to pay as the assailant loses their grip. Continuing with muscle memory, Rey kicks out, hitting the target in the solar plexus, then the instep, the nose, before she realizes what it is she’s doing._

_She blinks as a man in a red tracksuit swears, slumps down to the ground. Rey’s never seen him before in her life-_

_-she hears quick footsteps just before a pair of arms wrap around her stomach, attempting to drag her away, to drag her into the dark car she’s only now noticing. Rey swears, kicking up with as much force as she can, and elbows the bastard somewhere in the stomach on her descent. He drops her, and Rey falls to the ground, rolling to defend herself when-_

_A large hand wraps around her forearm, pulling her into a stance. She blinks, taking in Ben’s towering frame as he pushes her behind him._

_What the_ fuck _is happening, she thinks, but then her eyes see more and more men in red coming out from the shadows, from the car. After a moment, her eyes adjust to the dark and she’s able to make out the insignia on their jackets._

_Praetorians. First Order muscle. Her mouth goes dry._

_“Are you alright?” Ben asks, voice tight._

_“What are you doing here?”_

_“Maz called me.”_

_Rey lets go of a breath._

_“Don’t fucking touch her,” Ben snarls to the advancing figures._

_She can’t make out much of them in the darkness, just their red tracksuits.They’re eerily silent._

_Ben doesn’t say anything, but he drops into a fighting stance. He sends Rey a look out of the corner of his eye._

_Whatever she’s feeling can wait. She gives the slightest of nods before she turns, the two of them back to back._

_The Praetorians advance. So Rey and Ben fight._

_\--_

“It looks like Nobody’s...tapped out?” Kyp’s voice says to the warehouse, as though he doesn’t understand what he’s saying.

Immediately, the crowd breaks out into screams and boos. Rey doesn’t care. She just stays where she is, kneeling before Ben. She’s pretty sure she’s broken his nose.

“What are you doing?” Ben says, voice slightly plugged. Yeah, she did break his nose. Shit.

“I’m so mad at you,” is all she responds with. And, damn. She’s crying, isn’t she? Big, silent tears roll down her cheeks-- easily confused with sweat, with exertion. Rey’s tired.

She doesn’t hear him move, only feels the press of his forehead to hers as he crouches before her. His hands rest on her shoulders, rubbing small circles into her biceps. For a moment, they just breathe together. In and out. Over and over.

And soon, she’s crying harder. Big, big sobs wracking her back and shoulders. Because she loves him. She really does. Even when she hates him.

There’s wet drops falling into Rey’s hair. Ben's tired, too.

“Can I take you home?” He rasps.

She gives a small nod, not wanting to break the contact between their foreheads. Not wanting to break the pattern of their exhales.

Impossibly careful, Rey feels Ben’s arm slide under her knees. Then around her shoulders. She doesn’t protest as she’s lifted into the air, as her bloodied and sore hands wrap around Ben’s neck.

He walks out of the cage, eyes trained ahead as the crowd begrudgingly parts for them.

Rey closes her eyes and presses her cheek against his chest. Her injured hands slide down from his neck to grab fistfuls of his shirt.

She feels his arms tighten around her. Smells the night air as they leave the warehouse.

\--

_There are six bodies on the ground, and Rey is finding it hard to breathe._

_“Why-?” She can’t finish the question. Her eyes dart up to Ben’s face, trying to find an answer._

_He doesn’t say anything._

_She shakes her head, running a hand through her hair as she goes to pick up her phone. “I’ll call the police-”_

_“You can’t do that.”_

_Rey looks up. “What?”_

_Ben steps forward, resting his hand on hers. Stopping her from dialing. “They can’t help with this.”_

_She shakes her head, tries to clear her thoughts as what he’s saying sinks into her mind. Registers. “Because you’re...part of it,” she whispers. And feels nauseous. “They tried to kidnap me because of you.”_

_He looks at her, pained. And he must sense that she’s about to bolt, to run as fast as she can, because he blurts out a concession as though he knows it’s the only thing that will stop her._

_“I replaced Snoke. Two days ago.”_

_She feels frozen, but stands slowly. Snoke. She knows that name. Everyone in Giffah knows that name._

_And if Ben just replaced him…_

_“There’s still a few more pockets loyal to him,” Ben states. “You should stay with me, until it’s cleaned up.”_

_Rey stares at him like he’s a stranger._

_He holds out his hand._

_She stares at that, too._

_“Rey,” he says softly. “Come home with me.”_

_And it’s all too much, too fast. Her mind goes back to Unkar, to Finn, to her life before the Resistance. She can’t do that again. She_ won’t. _Her eyes sting._

_When she doesn’t take his hand, he lets out a soft, strangled syllable: “Please.”_

_And Rey knows, deep in her heart, that this has to be over. It’s over. It has to be over._ They’re _over._

_Rey looks at him, and even though it breaks her heart to do it, she shakes her head._

_Then she does one of the hardest things she’s ever had to do, and walks away--pretending she doesn’t hear him calling out for her, pretending like the image of him, standing alone surrounded by First Order bodies, isn’t going to stick with her forever._ _  
_

_\--_

She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. There’s still the Order. The Resistance. Finn, Rose. Hux. A thousand other factors.

But when they get to his apartment, the first thing she notices are the daffodils on the windowsill -- healthy and far from forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I was a nerd and made a playlist for the fic, if anyone's interested :B](https://open.spotify.com/user/nymja/playlist/4xvzTRvMrEw9mpBWwFqb7X). Thank you all so much for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments <3


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